Richie Hofmann

“Cicadas bury themselves in small mouthsof the tree's hollow, lie against the bark tongues like amulets,though it is I who pray I might shake off this skin and be raisedfrom the ground again. I have nothingto confess. I don't yet know that I possessa body built for love. When the wind grazesits way toward something colder, you, too, will be changed. One life abradesanother, rough cloth, expostulation.When I open my mouth, I am like an insect undressing itself.”