A cricket kept me up all night

Hudson Review, The, Winter 2005 by Sampson, Dennis

confined to a crevice in the fireplace-disgruntled desert father

that has figured out at least he can sing, if not eat, consoling himself

with the sound of his own making. It continues its sweet supplication

as I run my hands under the tap after breakfast, splash my face.

In a house on the plains

my mother feels this sunlight on her face waking to the radio

and my father too, folded in sleep. What shame is there in imagining

the canticle of a cricket in a fireplace

that does not know any better, working to change what we need?

Something about the dawn. That's what I wanted.

Something that tips the scales for us-that balances the disgust.