By E.R. Lutken

Magicicada tredecim

we grabble in cold soil
the ooze of time measured by
comings and goings
of wireworms and legless larvae
that wallow, pupate, then scramble off
the edge of the world

through tangle of detritus
we search for apical meristems
that stretch toward
subterranean streams

our splayed forelegs excavate
dank chambers of a soundless prison
where we feed on the saporous
nectar of scathed roots

we sleep in our shadowless caves
amid lifeless fimbriae
of roots we have sucked dry
dream only of phloem and grit
awaken and burrow on

in our labyrinthine journeys
we tunnel past columns of bustling ants
soft fingers of fungal hyphae
mucilaginous earth worms
sliding along seams
left by rotting leaves

water percolates around us
dissipates then seeps in again
vaporous breath
of the living earth

at once, we pivot upwards and sprout from pale exuviae
stunned by glare and echo, we pause, flex tymbals, pump wings
and at long last
sing

~~~~~

E. R. Lutken, a physician on the Navajo Nation for years, later taught science and mathematics in rural Colorado. Her poems appear in Cagibi, Mezzo Cammin, Think and other journals, and her poetry collection Manifold: poetry of mathematics”(3: A Taos Press, 2021) won the New Mexico First Book Award in 2022. She recently edited her father’s memoir A Thousand Places Left Behind: One Soldier’s Account of Jungle Warfare in WWII Burma (Univ. Press of Mississippi, 2023)
Web page: https://www.erlutkenpoetry.com