The Mayfly: May 12, 1864
after Miroslav Holub
Having risen from a branch of the Ni Riverduring a lull in the Battle of Spotsylvania,she settled on the blue upper lip of a deadConfederate corporal, weary. As Union troopsbegan their fifth assault on Laurel Hillshe began to molt, her cloudy wingsclearing with the weather, her spectral bodybrightening and swelling, as if the lifespilling from the ephemeral creatures around herwere filling her. Soon, she rose again,joining the sudden frenzied cloud of her kindcongregating then above the creek'sfizzing waters, their wings ten thousand leadedwindows pierced by an angling evening sun.
Copyright © 2019 by Geoffrey Brock
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
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