THE ORGASMS OF ORGANISMS
(from a line by Adam Zagajewski)
Above the lawn the wild beetles mate
and mate, skew their tough wings
and join. They light in our hair, on our arms,
fall twirling and twinning into our flat laps.
And below us, in the grass, the bugs
are seeking each other out, antennae lifted
and trembling, tiny legs scuttling,
then the infinitesimal ahs
of their meeting, the awkward joy
of their turnings around. Oh end to end
they meet again and swoon
as only bugs can. This is why,
sometimes, the grass feels electric
under our feet, each blade quivering,
and why the air comes undone over our heads
and washes down around our ears like rain.
But it has to be spring, and you have to be
in love. Acutely, painfully, achingly in love,
to hear the black-robed choir of their sighs.
--for Judith and Ruth
