Lady Birds’ Evening Meetings

Why am I here again with all of them flittering about? Just to be alone—

It’s what I tell myself, that I too bear black spots on red skin,

It’s how we scamper about before flowing off with our chiffon wings ready to take flight

At a moment’s notice, I am against the wall once again, wainscotting.

The girl on my soccer team leans over to me as I ready to take the seat next to her.

I don’t want no dirty Navajo sitting next to me, she says with her foreleg atop the cold metal chair.

So I take a seat in the row behind before leaving to find an empty room upstairs.

That day the leaders made us binders, wrapped in cotton filling, fabric, and lace.

I got the last pick; well, it wasn’t a pick at all. It was an ugly bright yellow calico print with thick white cotton lace. No one wanted it.

Why did no one tell me to wear a dress?

It’s my first time to this edifice, and I come without—

The girl down the street, the nice one, offers to buy me a white dress with pink florals from Kmart with her credit card. I accept.

This is an emergency, she declares with her card held high in the air.

I am 13 and she 17. Her parents say she can only use it in the event of—

The fabric hugs my ladybug rolls snugly as I step my way to the temple door.

It’s where we learn to really spread our wings in worship, tune our antennae like aluminum to the heavens.

Earlier I said, I could marry anywhere—that it didn’t matter none to me.

I didn’t know it yet, but I was a bug amid blossoms and their vines, winding through unnoticed and unaware

Until a knock came to my door: a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies sits on the welcome mat,

The girls giggling behind the trees, and there in the starlit night, we became a bloom.