Cicada by Will Reger

Cicada settles on the sidewalk
to wait the final embrace of
opossum’s maw or
the sweet reduction of ants.
The bulging eyes
fold in on themselves,
arthritic death clenches
once nimble wings, and
beetles rush to sip
the cooling ichor of life,
while dragonflies above
dance the wake.
And I walk by and by and by,
still humming the spiraling
summer song,
the siren call,
the joyous scream,
made agony in the short
pinch
of time.

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Will Reger was born and raised in the St. Louis, Missouri area. He has a Ph.D. in History from the University of Illinois and currently teaches history at Illinois State University. He lives in Champaign, Illinois, with his wife and two youngest children. He began writing poetry in the 7th grade and never quite stopped. He also plays the Native American Flute. He has recently had poems published in Fire in the Pasture and songs/cycles (and, of course, here on WIZ).

Photo credit: John O’Neill, via Wikimedia Commons.

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Seeing is Pleasure by Sonnet Mondal

The 7 o’ clock was hot again, hotter than any 7 o’ clock.
A drop of sweat travelling down my cheek
In search of destination stopped suddenly
And I rubbed it off, removing its existence.
I went up for a glass of glucose to see
Ants caving in there;
The glass had one inch water with dead ants floating €”
Perhaps they have committed suicide.
I went for a bath where water was in drops first,
Then there were none.
From the corridor, I saw people
Working with pumping lines.
They were so happy, the gushing water
That rode on them sometimes seemed
Like the child of a waterfall. Quite refreshing €”
My inner being had its bath from the scene.

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To read Sonnet Mondal’s bio and more poetry, click here.