A shooting star sparks gold
Across the Ohio.
This night vein dissolves
Fireflies spark.
In the northwest clouds dry-hump heat lightning.
A storm may or may not come.
I palm a firefly and its pumping light.
The first cricket of summer chirps.
For every six bottle rockets
One is a dud,
Our seventh-grade gym teacher
Told us boys, lined up,
As he checked us,
Tight-lipped,
For groin pulls,
His hands in a V.
His eyes smiling
“Dud” I can still hear his grotto voice.
That’s the night Joey Geiger drowned.
That’s the first time I saw a shooting star
Shoot dry.
I open my palm
The firefly flits into the sequined night.
A second cricket chirps.
“Dud.”
Robert E. Petras is a resident of Toronto, Ohio and a graduate of WestLiberty University. His poems and fiction have appeared in more than 250 publications across the globe.
