L'aura del Campo

Crickets (Zmitri)

Crickets

We circle around each other caught in a tidal grip,
our spawn strewn in a thin glint of glitter between us,
illumined by two distant blue stars. We are —
stretched to the limit.

No matter that we cannot touch
We gaze only for each other.

We spin closer; we feel the pull around the empty center
a non-relenting gravity of Time
that binds us to the Inevitable
that fills our universe with expectant dread.

Long after we are dead,
our children will curse our names,
the sound of their screams and moans —
like crickets.

© Kåre Enga [1.december.2016]

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