Poem of the Week: 2.23.23

"Larva" by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira

LARVA

by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira

Gnats
muddle the park 
at dusk when an earthquake
hits. They keep swarming
and I run through 
music so I don’t notice
when it ends

Gnats
are not beautiful. I have tried
tilting my head, closer
to their midair caucus
but I only see bugs

Shit—now there’s one in my eye
squirming like a larva
trying to live 
a short life

Gnats
from God
or Satan
or cells from the Big Bang
or Big Tech (etc.)
or a mad scientist 
who just wanted to be a better dancer
or nothing
or a mom and a dad, just like me
or the buzzing in my head
has started to leak

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Read by the poet:

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It’s cold in LA. Too windy for an open window. Rain on the way.

And there’s “Larva,” a poem written a couple summers ago on a sunnier day. There really was an earthquake during my post-work run. In my pursuit of cataloguing that somewhat poetic situation, I didn’t see the gnats I would soon walk right into.

Bugs help to put things in perspective. Watching the swarms of gnats make shapes in the air as I maneuvered around them made me think more about those little dudes floating and surviving. Apparently gnats swarm for a better chance of mating before they die. Searching for compatibility in the crowd. Now that’s poetic.

Part of what draws me—and maybe you—to poetry is the liberty in lyric. I can write what I want, how I want, and for whatever reason; you can interpret it however you want with your own experiences and lenses. What it all “means” is undulating between me and you until something finally shapes. Even in the mess of poetry, or a swarm of bugs, there’s some sense to be found if you stop to stare long enough.

Shout out to my roommate for the poem’s title. It fits.

Squirming, Ricky