I had to remove the photo of the June Bug. It just gave me the creeps.
This week, for the the Poetry Jam, Chris has provided us with a set of words from which we are to write a poem. After pondering the word bank, my mind immediately went to a memory of one laundry night, years ago, when I lived in Atlanta, Georgia. If you have never encountered a Georgia June bug, well, let me tell you... you are fortunate indeed. The darn things are about two inches long and click and sputter around lights at night all summer long. ugh! ugh! (worth 2 ughs!) Anyway, here's the poem:
Word bank: laundry, laugh, edges, ghost, beer
Attack of the Georgia June Bugs
Snugly against my right hip,
I carry laundry, clean and folded,
in a wicker basket
on a hot, southern night.
Georgia June bugs
circle above my head.
Diving to and fro, their wings roar
like ghosts of B-52 bombers.
I run to escape their clicking laughs;
over the edges of the basket.
I swoop down quickly
to retrieve escaping bras and panties
before anyone sees me
or those bugs get nearer.
“Don’t you dare fly into my hair!”
Ah, at last, I’m inside my apartment.
Only one goal: to chug a cold beer.
Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011