Ladybird

by Aki Schilz

The metallic whirr
of ladybird elytra,
gently rattling the glass.

I wonder who sent them to me,
like a gift, and if you still have yours.

Wonder too if, at the bottom of the day,
a small thing you might almost call memory
(if you were sentimental, which you aren’t)
glimmers. If you fish it out, finger and thumb
hooked as gently as if unhooking a bra – quiet,
in a bed rustling with books, spread out from their spines
…………………………………………………………like wings.

A moon and a sixpence, and three small dots
all shiny-black and round as watchful eyes, here

on the lacquered shell-back of a ladybird
gazing outward. I gaze too, as if I could magic
some part of you out of the horizon

stretching lazy as we were, lazy as
each morning smile I miss, every day.

 

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