Blue Damselfly

How do I become a blue damselfly?

Hopping from purple clover

To purple clover,

Quietly stalked by little ones

With sweaty hair and bright skin,

Just out of reach of the shadow

Of their fingertips

Blackened from digging for worms

Underneath the old cypress tree

By the seawall.

I’d flutter onto honeysuckles

With just one drop to give,

And watch as they

Pull the delicate strand so slowly

Hanging their tongues underneath.

They would follow me to the warped pier

And pause at the sight of the enormous

Yellow and black, leggy spider

Hiding between the planks:

A humble respect as

She must be watching with dozens of eyes.

They would tip toe slowly after me

To the end of the pier

Covered in pine straw and Spanish moss.

“Listen,” I would whisper gently.

And then a loud WHOOSH

From the wings of a great blue heron.

She flies alone in grief

But cannot hide her majesty.

Everyone pauses for a message,

But she never speaks,

Only intently gazes our direction.

Then, as soon as she arrives,

She whooshes away into the swamp.

“She’s sad,” the little one would say.

And I’d flutter in agreement.

Then, a sharp pain alongside my backside,

A fiery sting as my wings are pinched together.

“I got it!” a little one shouts.

And it rings through my antennae.

It smells like worm guts, and

My tail curls underneath me in agony.

My arms reach out in desperation,

As if to find anything to grab a hold of

While tiny hands hold me upside down.

I squeeze my eyes closed.

It’s all a bad dream.

Another little one says,

“Would make a good fish bait.”

And I wriggle violently in protest.

A scream from one, and I fall to the ground,

Wings too soaked from oil to fly me away.

I crawl through pine straw and try to hide.

But one easily finds me

And pinches me back up.

I’m pushed through the air

Like a toy airplane,

And pass out from the overload of senses.

“Aww, you killed it!” I hear one shout.

But I’m not dead.

The little ones run away,

Bored with the outcome.

I can’t be angry.

I let myself get too close.

I trusted the shadow a little too much.

I lie on my side, unable to fly.

And I see it crawling quickly towards me—

The spider from between the planks.