lantern flies

in august everyday 
i found dead lanternflies 
in my car, legs pressed together,
oh the sarcophagus body, the metal
tomb. i don't know why they'd all
come here. is it the soft floor 
of the backseat? the shine of roof
drawing them in. i cup my hands to 
drop them onto the hot sidewalk. 
i drove home to visit my parents 
& on the way they swarmed. they make
nests on the roofs of the battery 
factory where my father goes to 
stand in an assembly line-- click
wires into place. the closer i get
to kutztown the more toss themselves
at my car window-- plink of
folded paper skeletons-- from
a distance they look like origami,
like purposeful creatures. as they
swarmed they all flew in my mouth--
a thousand or so of them, tasting
like cherry throat lozenges. 
in the living room when i tried to
smile they angry-buzzed. they spoke 
in fifty voices, admonishing me
for having teeth crooked as 
the tombstone across town. 
in the bathroom i openned
the medicine cabinet to look
for a face wash but the bottles 
where all empty so i just used 
water. the drain in the upstrairs
bathroom is clogged so the whole room
flooded. i wrote an apologize on 
the foggy mirror & didn't tell them.
this will suffice as a goodbye, yes?
i open my mouth & they flutter
their black wings. you
asked if he could help me, but i shook
my head. they'll move on eventually.
out in the backyard i saw more,
nesting in the gutters-- making
a crown on the head of the house.
we should have said a more sturdy 
goodbye, yes? but what is the use 
of all that. the lanterflies would
scoff at the sentimentality of humans--
we can't let them know how soft we
really are. bent over the toilet 
you watched me pull them out 
one at a time-- squirming, dangling
from the tweezers. i told you
not to tell mom or dad. they are
worried enough, yes? i don't 
mind artificial flavors, you know,
the tastes of medicines. i am 
allergic to something around here---
is it the skin of the buildings--
papery & dry from the heat. 
the bowl of fruit on the kitchen
table melts into a brown syrup
& flies the size of needle heads
gather-- quick quickly & full of sugar.
as always i need to go home.
the sun is sweet & orange scented.
the lanternflies, seated on
the roof of my car, come along for
the ride. dead in the morning
on the front seat. a row of priests.
i brush them off & mutter
to them not to pray for me.