Suburban Pastoral

Carol Mangis

We raged through sprinklers
limbs flashing,
heads slick,
till chanting of crickets
caused the sun
to sink.

Apricot light
bathed us.
We ate sweet corn with butter,
salted tomatoes,
watermelon, sliced;
slapped at arrogant mosquitoes
swelled with our blood.

At twilight, fireflies
glimmered in backyards
signaling
in the giddy language of light.
We caught them and
when they lighted, smeared
bright tender abdomens
on skin, sketched
glowing tattoos
that faded
in a few moments.

My mother's hands drew
one cool sheet
to my neck.
I dreamed to the sound
of ice clinking glasses
outside my window,
the peanut smell
of suntanned skin,
the brush of a moth's wing
on my face.