Editor’s Note: The following poems are submitted for our readers’ pleasure by members of The Lake County Arts Council’s writers Circle which meets on the first Thursday of every month, 6 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. at Main Street Gallery, 325 N. Main Street, Lakeport.
Mayflies
They could take over the world
their sheer numbers
high pitched hum
shred the human psyche
as they swirl and swarm
upwards and onwards
into a destiny
not mine to know
we walk
eyes at a squint
mouths closed
hold our breath
no going under
or around them
on this road
across the lake
Mt. Konocti vibrates
behind them
the air tries to cool
after a summer day
temperatures in the 3 digits
a family of skunks rustle in the bushes
our neighborhood osprey
circle their aerie
call to each other as twilight
reveals the moonrise
the sun almost extinguished
the fire fighting planes
fly to the west
soon we will be shadows
against the ethereal glow
of the dry, dry grasses
on the hillside
the mayflies
whine and shrill behind us
say, don’t be afraid
we are not your enemy
—by Mia Ruiz
She Brought dandelions
This room is a box full of leaves and flowers.
Paint is smeared onto the concrete floors.
Pain in my knees, scars on my arms.
The dandelions don’t care.
What is gray is also yellow,
what is hurting is also holding your hand,
swinging you forward.
A petal for every drop of blood you leave on this table,
for every cry you cry in the night of nights
that swallow you whole.
For every longing that leaves you cracked, minced like
shards of shards.
What else can you pick apart so well besides yourself?
Slow it down to feel the pain, not just write it.
You have to feel the pain to feel alive.
You have to stay alive to feel the black of eyes
grow larger when the dandelions keep staring at your face
because they know the truths only you can tell.
They look like flowers
but their sentience will haunt you
when one day they open their own eyes
and laugh
at all you never said.
—by Georgina Marie
