Japanese-American Beetle

by Aaron DeLee

You’re not some simple B-flick horror

you black and copper bug, but a summer

blockbuster, bursting up from every

fertilized lawn once you’ve shot that grubby

stage; your grassroots long gone.  Six-legged, starred,

and full of buzz, you win attention by

tagging yourself on shoulders, nagging

heads, tangled in hair, stuck like bad ads all

over, on airwaves even, pitching

your way onto fingertips, pinching bit

reminders as you reel toward those prized

roses that you deface, you decimate,

picking away all that green between

lined veins, perforations; skeletonized

so that even the sun will burn those

frail bushes like film devoured by

zealous projectors. Concessions must

be made, so baggy ornaments

loiter in yards, collecting your slick,

iridescent, celluloid carapace

attracted by an engrossing stench.

About Aaron DeLee

Aaron DeLee was born and raised in South Bend, Indiana. He received his BA in Creative Writing from Loyola University Chicago. His work has been performed by VOX3, a Chicago opera troupe, and has also appeared in various journals, including the Found Poetry Review and Interrobang. He is currently an MFA candidate at Northwestern University.

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