Just Now

a ladybug, its carapace blown open

so a translucent trace of orange gleams

from its body, has ascended link by link

the smudgy silver curve of my watch band.

It must have helicoptered past the sill

while I was slumped here squinting in the paper

at the ashen packaging another bombing's

made of a minivan. Made available

in the photo like the homeless in a poem.

The pain is far away. But then for moments

utterly clear: molten metal guttering

down from the Milky Way to fall on us.

And sometimes, God, it lands with all its will.

My spluttered prayer for it to hold its distance:

how ludicrous to blurt it from this comfort.

Still it impels itself from me. Please stay

away from me. Please stay away from this

insectile soul who only weeks ago

was wind and shit and jasmine leaves and rain.