Ladybug Brigade / Jean Klurfeld

Ladybug Brigade

Jean Klurfeld

All of the ladybugs in my room died yesterday. Some lay by the one small flower on my windowsill — also dead. One died in the pot, on the dirt, next to the stem.

I can see them across from me in my bed. There used to be almost 40 around my windowsill. I’d send you photos.

One day I woke up because a ladybug had crawled on my cheek, almost into my mouth.

They enter through the vent under the window, a gray box that sticks out through the wall.

Now that the weather’s getting better, there’s no reason for them to stay. They’ve all left, and the ones who didn’t lie in tight, silent curls on my windowsill and carpet.

Every now and then, one that was still alive and crawling up the walls drips to the bottom and crisply falls to the ground. They pass the vent as they fall.