Series editor’s note: In Kamilah Aisha Moon’s “Fireflies,” the speaker is mesmerized by the idyllic world created by the insects and has been transported, with eyes closed, into the worlds within worlds they are surrounded by, taking us with her into a nameless place where pulsing bodies await. In it, we too are mesmerized, enchanted by those who choose to stay within the confines of the brightest nook of themselves, who choose to be seen under a different light, where they are only the best versions of themselves, and nothing else. Here, stay, the speaker seems to say, linger for a bit, because even the thought of pondering upon residual joy is a radical act in itself, that will indeed leave us spellbound. – Mahtem Shiferraw
Fireflies
The air in this house
is so warm, closer
than close.
In different rooms
they flutter,
eyes closed within
their own worlds.
Faces bathed in twilight,
headphones mainline
Jackie, Sam, Aretha
Dionne, James or Smokey
into their pulsing bodies—
who they were then
lives inside every adlib
& holler, shooting
from fingertips spread
above their heads.
Inside the brightest nook
of themselves, they are
everything they did
right, everything that
made sense at the time
still bringing
residual joy. Ambient,
my parents winged
& lit from every angle
hover, untaxed delight!
I don’t blink, don’t dare
try to capture them
in the mason jar
of my hungers
nor halt them
shimmering, spellbound.