To the Ladybird of Uber

by Joyce Chen

I am sorry for tearing off my mask (your holiday home)
and shouting what the – as you huffed on car carpet
but I remember
how strong your red bauble back gleamed
with its dilated pupil pattern
and – at the rolled window –
how reluctantly you allowed the wind
to touch your line-drawn legs again
and how your wings spread
from impossible pockets
like unsheathing blades, like slices
of oxygen in the heavy thick air.