Dear Cicada
(or Diatribe in a Favorite Childhood Tree)


Half in & half out, trapped, stuck, immobilized by a necessary

metamorphosis—my look since the restraining order & frantic flight

home. You have such an ugly face— amber orbs amid three glowing points.


What I would give for five eyes. Maybe I would have seen the warning

signs. Can you ever stop what’s coming for you? HOOYAH—now I will crush

you! Take it easy. It was just a joke. I have no interest in tease & trauma. Although,


you’re so helpless & pathetic, I can see how one might be tempted. I bet

you are female—those sad, scared eyes. In other countries, people eat you.

Wikipedia says girl cicadas are meatier. They wouldn’t say all girls. I just want


your shell, the empty shape of you. I’d carry you around, stick you

on my sweater. Form with no content, the stuff of so much fantasy.

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