Dark Spots

This day is lady bug melting in the sun;
He’s a man. The bug, the lady.
A manny bug for pun!
It smells like a funeral flower,
And tastes like butterfly’s wings.
His legs tickle my arm as he prances closer to my ear to whisper important things:
“Funny how my dark spots make me lovelier,” he sang.
He sounds the way watermelon tastes.
His syllables smooth as banana pudding topped with meringue.

“I think Jesus would like to live in Carolina with me,” I sang back.
That lady bug sure is a lady, his spots so black.

“Ya know,” said manny bug, “I think Carolina’s ocean wants to play.
The rush & swoosh of the waves calm my thoughts;
I’ll sit on your shoulder and you float at the mercy of the water’s sway.”

I feel the same peace as a jelly fish’s sting.
But this lady bug and I will sing like a siren to the sailors at sea.
That lady bug sings strong, so strong.
Strong song, so strong.
“My dark spots make me lovelier.”
In vino veritas.
Her dark spots, I mean his dark spots
My dark days: Lovelier.

Sarah Towle is an English major at University of Wisconsin-Parkside. Recently married, and with 3 more semesters to go, she aims to expand her ideas and limitations in all areas of writing with the help of the extraordinary English Dept. of Parkside.