on swelter days
when her sweat wets cushions
and dogs breathe tooth rot,
wild boars tusk furrows through her tulips
at the summer shack
she finds jarred fireflies on the steps
mostly dead…
children left them there
once a boy pulled the glow belly from a firefly
stuck it on her finger
will you marry me?
Bonnie Marshall
Artwork by Jinni Thomas
Proem... 
I’m officially in love with THIS POEM and your picture accompanying it! Well done!
Please know I appreciate your generous comment very much. Smiles…
Very, very intriguing!
That you should think so is very important to me, Nancy, as always…
Bonnie, an excellent poem. Rich and elegant. Smiles…>KB
I’m grateful you think so, KB. Smiles…
my first reading of this poem lifted off the top of my head. i then had to get up, pour myself a glass of wine, and jump back in. a “mid-summer night’s dream” turns out to be a nightmare. the poem forces me to admit that we live in a world over which we have little control. first two stanzas: past tense — the last stanza: present. (the “past is prologue”.) as always i admire your poetic craft. for example, “wild boars tusk furrows through her tulips” delights with both rhyme and rhythm.
Ah, then, you…you master poet…are an answer to a poet’s prayers. Whitman’s line, “catch somewhere, oh my soul” in “A Noiseless Patient Spider” is in my mind as I try to think how to thank you enough for your understanding of what I was about…even to the Mid-Summer Night’s Dream…. I’m deeply grateful. Smiles…
Poem’s like this are addictive, my dear. As it should be… This might be one of my new favorites
My poetry rises more slowly these days, delightful Jana, as do I. Old bones. Always, I treasure your generous comments. Hug.
Bountiful sensuality leading to the essential question proposed with pain but with no answer?
Thank you, Sharon, for your insightful question. It’s very helpful to me when I learn how someone is receiving a poem. You sense the importance of the open-endedness to get to a deeper level, and that is so perceptive. Smile.