When the Ladybugs Came

Three elk top a grassy ridge. They are evenly spaced, the one in the middle centered in a bold V shape. Within the V, the sky is crystalized into abstract shades that fade from blue at the horizon to almost pink against the upper edge of the frame.

I don’t remember exactly
when the ladybugs came,
but I know that morning
the sky was clear,
until they came rolling in,
a storm of shadow
that swarmed our house.
They hummed, pulsated, trembled,
weaving a thick blanket
that drove out all the light.

When my sister cried out,
I put on the brave face
my parents taught me, a consequence
of familial love corrupted.
A love that bore down on us
like the horde of insects above our head.

I once found ladybugs beautiful,
and by themselves they were,
but together they were ominous,
a show of unexpected force,
a thing I never knew to fear.


Caitlin O’Halloran

Caitlin O’Halloran is a biracial Filipino-American poet who studies in a poetry workshop taught by Katia Kapovich. As a high school student, she attended the Sewanee Young Writers’ Conference on the poetry track. She has a Bachelor of Arts from Boston University in Philosophy and History.

Header photograph and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson

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