Cicadas Mating

After their seventeen-year silence 
they return to deafen us,

to incite another type 
of listening: 

having remained alive 
through the long seasons of the unsaid. 

The word much like the egg, 
craving its own birth. 

Egg 
of a single word, 

re-entering the earth, 
then waiting. 

Peter Marcus | Torn Pages from a Ground Zero Notebook
Contents | Mudlark No. 55 (2014)