We Don’t Need Wings

In the fall,

in the months when the nights dropped degrees,

the ladybugs slipped into the house.

You would find them in corners,

pressed in bunches,

silent remnants of tulips.

 

“They come from an experiment.”

She says it as she vacuums them up.

“From the university.

They were trying to improve crop growth.”

You count the years of bad luck sucked down the soft metal pipe.

 

In the scorching heat of a woodstove,

and blankets the color of the Maine sea in the summer,

your fingers and hers are sewn fabric.

Outside the wind knocks politely,

and wraps snow with Christmas lights.

You whisper that you both are ladybugs,

and she laughs into your shoulder.

Author's Note

I'm most interested in what you think of the language, and how it flows.

Reviews

[Justin]

I thought this was a really cool poem. The tone is dusky and fits with the fall/winter subject matter. I think that the line: "silent remnants of tulips" doesn't flow as well as the rest of the stanza. If you could find a way to alliterate the "s" sounds, I think it might glide more smoothly.

Also, I would delete the "it" from the second line of the second stanza.

Really cool!

[icaros13]

I'm glad I stumbled onto this poem. I definitely enjoyed the language and flow. Your dialogue fits seamlessly with your narrative. What I truly loved, however, was your ability to create vivid imagery, total scene and mood change, and all with common vocabulary. I think this is quite elegant and tasteful. I will definitely be watching for future writes.