An Eerie Dream

400 Union Street.
Backyard.
It is not full of rattlesnakes
–like last time.
I go in through the patio.
Next to the freezer,
On the floor,
Is the largest beetle.
Dull—flat blue; bigger than my hand.
I pick it up, behind the head, clasping the outer wings.
It tries to flutter.
I am going to need a bigger kill-jar…

Inside, Mama is nervous.
Papa fascinated.
I look at the beetle again.
The head is missing.
In its place there is a plastic doll head.
It reminds me of days gone by, the barefoot mad science days. You could gently pull a grasshopper’s head out in such a way that the whole inner body would slip out leaving an empty exoskeleton. If the reverse could be achieved, then perhaps a toothpaste cap could be used to replace the skull…

Papa wants to see the wings.
I shift my grip and the wing coverings open.
Underneath, the beetle unfurls not wings,
But a piece of cloth for a patchwork quilt.
Mama won’t want that back…

I let the dog out.
Earie is dead.