December 10, 2024
Fanciful depiction of a cicada, Anonymous, German, 19th century, from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Gift of Roberta J.M. Olson and Alexander B.V. Johnson, 2022
Brood XIX
We are experiencing
the emergence.
I am overrun
with the little bugs.
Tonight a larvae
hatched in my hand.
Once the wings
unfurled, I put her
on a nearby tree.
She is beautiful,
white and iridescent
in color. I expected
her to fly away
but she didn’t.
I thought she had
droplets of water
on the ends of her wings.
I tried to wipe them off
but she signaled
almost like she was in pain.
I wanted her death
to be quick and instant,
or slow and peaceful.
Not from a predator
ripping her apart.
Poor thing.
I have observed
adult cicadas
outmaneuvering
the most agile raptors.
They don’t hurt
or bite. They are very gentle
and very stupid.
I am curious
why so many continue
to move
despite not having a whole body.
Do cicadas travel
in groups? Why do cicadas
attach to some houses
and not others?
Can they swarm humans
and enter into the mouth?
Does their bite hurt?
I don’t think so,
but everyone feels
different levels of pain.
I would literally cut
off my legs
for cicadas. I love them.
My favorite thing
is to watch them molt.
I don’t remember
when I ever heard them
so loud before.
Here they racket
when the sun hits,
calm down at sunset,
then kick back up
in the moonlight.
I heard their sound
in the classroom and knew
the summer holidays
were not far away.
At my country school
the kids used a pole
and chewed bubble gum
to catch one
and a loop of sewing thread
to keep her like a pet.
Once my cat escaped
during a swarm.
When I got him back inside
he was purring.
He had swallowed
one whole—and she sang
for several minutes
in his stomach.
Ariela Gittlen is a writer in New York.