You scare me with the plethora
Of bugs you bring forth when you open
Your closed fist: mud dauber, potato beetle,
The common grasshopper and the one
You say I’m most related to, The Lady Bug
I’m your four-year-old granddaughter and I like
Band-Aids all over my knee, they remind
Me of the raggedy quilts on your outside mattress
i like to say big words
I like to throw up just to see the frothy milk
I like the cruelty of smashing ants, calmly,
With a hammer in your gravel driveway
I watch them carry bits of puffed corn
To their little baby ants, then whamo.  Sometimes
I have to hit them several times and I want
To know how many times you have to die
Before you’re dead.
On clear nights we sleep outside under the stars
I can already pick out the bigger dipper
When your alarm for the space station goes off
We see its unblinking path, like a glowing bathtub
With three people washing under their arms, they
Frown down on us because they want their privacy.
I love to catch fireflies in a jar
Are these bugs like shooting stars in the grass?
Bioluminescence you say.  I take my shirt off
Smear my belly with their bellies
I want to blink on and off, on and off
I want to light up with their bioluminescence