One Caribeño on Cucuyos

Song for the Cucuyo
By Virgil Suarez

caught them at sundown in the tall grass
by the plantain plants by the porch

of our house in Havana, put several
in clear marmalade jars, brought them

inside the house, as pets, for the night;
there on the nightstand, in the dark,

they flashed their incendiary illuminations,
flashes of fluorescence, like faint lights

of a distant tarmac to signal the passing
of fears, such fears that keep children

awake for so long: old men in cold rooms
sit in the dark, stained undershirts,

the sound of phlegm, fingers gone yellow
from cigarette smoking.  This long, long

road through distant cities, wrapped
in strange light.  Everywhere, cucuyos,

from Havana to Tallahassee, to light
this child’s way home.