Amy Wright
To enjoy something,
like jiu-jitsu or capoeira,
is to stumble onto a sensation
that stops you, gets you
looking for newer models
of introduction. Confused,
we wonder, should we bow
before or after, kiss l’éstranger,
and which cheek, right or left?
If only we lit up, illuminants
pre-equipped to tiki torch ourselves,
we might be fearless, peel back
any darkness for a nice chénpí
without hesitation—except
even those beetles with internal
running lights are the opposite
of autonomous when their pulsing
synchronizes, frightening
the young ones with glimpses
of the whole forest and themselves
scattered at large within it.