Ace Boggess 🔈
My glasses fog in humid summer.
Through them every beacon warns of rocks,
shallows, imminent wreckage. Before
I can wipe them, fireflies form holograms
of constellations, luciferase scattered
like overzealous Christmas bulbs.
I clear my lenses, light a cigarette, &
insects swarm. They woo the burning tip,
surround me, lustful teens in packs
at dances. God, they have my attention —
embers of fireworks falling. They rage,
rage against the dying of July.
About the Author
Ace Boggess is the author of six books of poetry, most recently Escape Envy (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2021). His poems have appeared in Michigan Quarterly Review, Harvard Review, and Notre Dame Review. An ex-con, he lives in Charleston, West Virginia, where he writes and tries to stay out of trouble.