Somehow the fireflies still
emerged that summer, still
hovered and would alight,
gently curious, on his outstretched
hands—they felt soft as a tiny purr,
listening antennae and blurred wings,
though not as many as before.
Don’t mistake us for innocence,
they said, constellating on a thundery
evening. We know the dark and we string
it through the trees you left behind.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 26, Issue 3.
Lea Marshall’s poetry is forthcoming in The Ecopoetry Anthology Volume III. She was recently named a finalist for Diode Editions’ 2023 Book Contest, and for the Graybeal-Gowen Prize for Virginia Poets, and her poetry has appeared in The Rise Up Review, A-Minor Magazine, failbetter, BOAAT Journal, Linebreak, Unsplendid, Hayden’s Ferry Review, B O D Y, Diode Poetry Journal, Thrush Poetry Journal, Broad Street Magazine, and elsewhere. She holds an MFA from Virginia Commonwealth University.
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