Ladybug, Ladybug

by Buff Whitman-Bradley

This afternoon I was sitting in the backyard

out by the clothesline where I’d just hung the wash

The sky was without clouds and there was sunlight

coming through the leaves and branches of the fig tree

making constantly shifting shapes and shadows

on the sheets and pillowcases and towels

as they billowed and bloomed in the warm, lively breeze

As I sat, a boxelder bug landed

on the index finger of my right hand

There are boxelder bugs everywhere around here

at this time of year.

They are plain little insects about a half-inch long,

black, with flat, elongated bodies and thin orange lines

on the thorax and wings

I held my finger up close to my face

and the boxelder bug and I regarded each other

for a few moments before it flew off into the garden

Of course it reminded me of when we were children

and we used to find lady bugs on leaves or blades of grass

and coax them onto our fingers

then say “Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home,

Your house is on fire and your children will burn”

And I thought of the places all over the world

where children are on fire,

where they are collateral damage, mutilated, torn into pieces

where they are bathed in white phosphorous and napalm in Fallujah

where they are cracked open and spilling out into the dirt in Karbala

where they are crushed under their own houses in Palestine

by invading bulldozers

or shredded to ribbons by Apache helicopter gunships

or shot between the eyes by snipers

where they are machine-gunned in Somalia

and hacked to bits in the Congo

where their hands and feet are ripped off by cluster bombs

in Lebanon and the Balkans

where in all the peripheral places

they are lacerated and mangled and disfigured

by the infernal engines of the One True and Holy Empire

where their bodies are stunted and their hearts are shriveled

and their hopes are strangled

where their destinies are inscribed in their flesh

with a thousand needles

by the harrowing apparatus of the Great God Capital

Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home

Carry your children out of their burning houses

and spread your wings wide to keep them from harm

Shield them from the bullets and the bombs

Keep them safe from missiles and landmines

Turn helicopters into dragonflies

Turn tanks and bulldozers into dung beetles

Turn machine guns into cicadas

Turn generals and admirals

and war profiteers and captains of industry into crickets

Beat the World Bank into ploughshares

and the IMF into pruning hooks

Turn money into packets of seeds

and stock markets into community gardens

Turn corporations into bluegrass bands

into public spaces and tap dance academies and choirs

Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home

Your house is on fire

and time is running out