There, at the top of the catalpas,
they’re like everyone else who screams
about their life and never gets over it.
Their ears look like eyes,
wings, the shapes of feathers,
their emerald sidewalls are misplaced
since beauty deters destruction.
Cicadas disappear underground
for years at a time, starving out
the competition, including their families.
The ability to betray everyone we’ve ever known,
however briefly, is baked inside our bodies.
All we need is an opportunity, a plight,
and someone to love.
Robert Wilson is a poet and teacher living in the Mid-west. His most recent works have appeared in the Lily Poetry Review and Snapdragon.