Horseshoe. It's a ringer.
There is always too much time
scooped out between seeing
the family. Fourth of July,
a nephew nearly my age
sparks a marshmallow
on the cinderblock fire pit as we
laugh over Yuengling
and Grandma's macaroni salad.
Oh, how she would drive the girls
in her hunting truck!--too fast
on those Allegheny roads--
no guard rails, up-down-up-down,
no seatbelts, and her backyard
glider summer-sleeps, cradled
in a blanket of fireflies:
disappearing, reappearing,
like our memories of her,
mocking us like little gods.
---
"Fireflies" first appeared in Crack the Spine.