when first I catch sight
of the stink bug
her marmorated brown carapace
stark against
the white wall of my kitchen
I am startled
my mind busies
with the why and how
of her presence
so much square footage
for myself and
I am inhospitable
to a thumbnail size traveler
seeking shelter
yet she cannot remain
aversion of the stranger
is marmorated through me
I scoop her up
gently speaking:
let’s take you outside
there’s nothing here for you
I fling her out the backdoor
into the garden believing
it’s there she
belongs
she will find kin
food and shelter
more suitable than
what she sought for herself
in the hundred-year-old house
which I’ve claimed as mine
but my mind lingers on her
even after I squeak
the screen door shut
one moment she was
climbing a vast expanse
then floating in darkness
before freefalling
into wet green and brown
Is this what is asked of us?
to carry ourselves away
from the walls that claim us
from centuries old structures
leap back into the garden
where we belong,
marmorated
one and all?