Aftermath of the 4th of July
Lawns are bathed in
lurid prime-time television glow,
air saturated with anti-mosquito citronella.
Fireflies string together on azalea bushes,
garden lanterns bobbing in the breeze like glowing tangerines, stillness peppered with mutters from upstairs and the buzz and crack of moths and beetles exploding into sparks
in electric bug-zappers as cicadas hum to the tune of a crackling radio
playing in the background for teenagers
on the driveway lighting sparklers which explode into anemones that dissolve and fall gently down to earth in a shower of confetti shards.
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