Backyard prayer

cicada heartbeat
buzzing in my chest
breathing hot air
into hot air
sweat beading on my shoulders
like fireworks at night

how do you get back

a mulberry bush hanging over a lake
feeding the snapping turtle with
soft mouthfuls
your mother flipping pancakes
each Saturday morning

—warm paws reaching 
towards your belly—

to me
nothing smells as sweet
as tomato leaves
to me
the murky water 
shielding the beast 
beckoned us
but we didn’t dare reach
for fear of losing fingers 

how else do i get back to me

kneeling at the shore waiting for
the surface to break
with mountain peak shell 
mouth open like a scream

where else can i reach

I'm an emerging poet from Bloomington, Indiana. I draw inspiration from nature, nostalgia, and a little humor now and then.