waiting for cicadas 

i buy the cicadas barbie shoes & leave them
in the dirt. an offering. i am hoping when they come
that this time they will have an answer.
some kind of prophecy. "here is how
you save yourself" or, even better,
"here is how we will save you." the year before i left
my hometown they broke free. left their
shells like brooches all across the pine tree trunk.
some of them became pendants in the amber sap. 
i harvested as many as i could. put my ears
to their husks & heard them sing.
they told me, "get as far away as you can
from yourself." i bought wings on ebay.
half price. found the last living cicada.
he was putting on a suite & going to a wedding.
followed him & then kept going.
there is more than one edge of the world
but they all have cicadas. a brilliant metal chorus.
i got to forget enough to stay alive. i thanked them.
cut holes for them to pass through my ears. 
a little latent circus. i put on a show when i die. 
they are coming again this year & i want to know if 
they remember me. if they remember
how far away i got. will they be disappointed
that i came back? the soil thick. the sky heavy.
i like to hope not. after all, they are spirits of return.  
rosary bead creatures. held between thumb & forefinger.
i too have asked to be counted. to unzip 
from my skin & scream. when they come we will
put on the good costume jewelry. we will
curtsy to each other. bathe in the moon's
bronze bell ringing. chimes in the trees' fingers.
i will lean in close & ask, "what did 
you learn in the dirt?"