Fireflies

If I peeled my skin, removed eyes,
fireflies would bolt from folds and sockets,
nine of them, going round your head.

Two in each ear, buzzing strictly words,
I hope to God, the yellow light doesn’t
seep and pour another’s beauty.

You might place her skin, her eyes
and hold the other four flies
in your mouth to die, then let

the ninth fly away with my life
but you wouldn’t or couldn’t
because fireflies are beautiful.