wildscape. literary journal

invasive species
by Emma Johnson-Rivard

gimme shelter when i’m killing lanternflies.
we’re playing god and feeling good about it, 
going heel to boot to soul. red blooms before the 
crunch. people aren’t metaphors but the lanternfly 
isn’t either. they did not ask to exist. we’re told only
that they shouldn’t, invasive clenched tight 
between our fingers. it’s your duty, the flyer says. 
and it’s our birthright as white americans, the sticker 
in the park says. start kicking. 

please, god, gimme shelter while i’m taking 
white power stickers out the park. gimme grace 
when i’m out there killing lanternflies. it’s in the air now, 
ohio strong. duty and boots and big black heels. 
they’ve all got something to say about that shine of red, 
the death spasm after the stomp. 

lanternflies die like origami, you know, 
they fold up neat. no coffins. they only 
want to exist. 

i dream metaphors, killing lanternflies, thinking
about the chant that erases me, too. i carry conflict 
in my throat. bile on the soul. we cannot do this clean. 

about the author // Emma Johnson-Rivard