Black Sheen, Olive Green
Black sheen, olive green cicada flaps.
Floodlight flips on. Crickets pulse out, a thousand miniscule glass stoppers spun in bottle necks.
Cicada buzzes. It's twitching on its back, its wings pummeling the composite decking, its pale underbelly defenseless.
Cicada flips right-side up again, its clear wings still furious.
Man grips hard a stick,
Six feet away from wasp nest
clinging to railing
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