The fireflies perform
For Lindsey and me as
We stand in the field behind my house
Drinking champagne from
The night protects us from each other’s eyes.
There is no love here,
I cannot see his blond hair,
But his warm voice comes to me in the dark,
Manchester, not London.
Still sexy and exotic
Here on a New England farm
On a summer night.
My conference pickup,
A stranger who entices with warmth,
Who promises nothing.
We’ve been drinking and dancing to Joe Cocker,
So Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum,
I’m in the mood for an Englishmon.
We’re floating through a night sky
Surrounded by flickering, dancing stars,
And then I’m
Maureen Fielding is an associate professor of English and Women’s Studies at Penn State Brandywine. Her work has appeared in RIC Review, Rubbertop Review, and Amarillo Bay, and is forthcoming in Westview and Willow Review. She is working on a novel inspired by her experiences as a Russian intercept operator in West Berlin during the Cold War.