Emily Hockaday

INVASIVE SPECIES

The summer the lantern flies hit Queens,
our yard became home to a resident
catbird. I only saw one nymph on a cucumber
leaf. Out on the street we stomped them,
chasing as they hopped once, twice, three
times. My child is a fierce protector
of our home. My husband sees a future
full of wings—songbird populations
growing to meet demand. I think of my
nervous system, which, when feeling attacked,
only attacks me in its attempt
to protect. I hope the Earth does better. I hope
when demands are made, they are met,
though I’m willing to help out. For me,
it was 20 mg every morning with tea—
And oxytocin, hugs, the wind
in the morning, the chemical exchange
with my garden, the breath that moves
through my lungs and I hold, waiting.

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