Poem: “Mid-breath, a Question” in Tiny Spoon

My poem “Mid-breath, a Question,” is in Issue 8 of Tiny Spoon.

Mid-breath, a Question

Like that time we went driving past moonrise along black backroads and the cornflats sprawled like silver oceans while summer’s skirling nightbug chorus howled around in our truck and deer appeared like eldritch totems roadside in our blazing trucklights and the hovering swarms of fireflies sparked and burned crazily everywhere with arhythmic timings and when we bucked that little traintrack hill I flipped the highbeams out like spears of fire into that space-dark night and as though in response the sky yes the entire roof of the world

flashed

as all the fireflies flared together back at us like a million-million eyes blinking in unison like countless discordant voices suddenly joined into one pure note like a question cleaving a breath in half and all the world was quiet then and still in the sudden light save for us barreling through it two spellbound creatures who knew only that something beautiful had happened and we alone were there to see it.