Holly Day
The catch

The clump of dirt comes up, half-frozen
revealing the sleepers beneath the snow:
a tiny purple centipede, the thick white bodies
of beetle larvae, unspecific maggots.

In my position of power, I consider
destroying them all in their sleep, because I can't tell
what these things will pupate into
if they're something that will fatally drain my flowerbed
or perhaps just fertilize and helpfully propagate.

My daughter joins me, on her knees
coos into the hole: "Baby bugs! I always wondered!"
starts imagining aloud what these indistinct, clawed worms
will look like when their wings burst forth
what colors they'll become, the sounds they'll make

and if they'll visit her bedroom window
on some far-off, summer night.

<< return to the Table of Contents for New Series #6: Winter 2018, Volume 3 Number 2