outside chirrs blessings to the carcass
on the windowsill.
Bug body bent
& Mama talking
of things I’ve never known: of wasps,
katydid killers, burrowing babies to be born
within cicada bodies—ravaging and rebirth
& Mama talking about Auntie’s focus on ravaging,
fearing the ringing: cicada-katydid
kind-of-rain as distress call, as warning wasp hunt.
Cicada on our kitchen counter
Postmortem underbelly white like crystals
legs curled as if frozen in the act of clutching
& Mama talking,
saying the ringing is a reminder
of loss: first Auntie, then could-have-been children,
cicada-katydid / kind-of-rain as distress call, as warning wasp hunt.