crickets

there are things i don't want to write
grotesque things
things like the crickets
our basement was a landmine field of leaping crickets
just riddled with these harmless, sensitive, startling creatures
terrified, sister and i stayed away
until one day, determined to get to the laundry room
we began a new approach
we'd fetch tupperware from the kitchen
we'd descend to the basement, hunched
we'd shuffle our feet along the pilly vanilla carpet and at just the right moment
we'd place-toss the tupperware over the cricket
it would leap frantically around its strange new cage
as our dopamine faced off against our shame
we were always too afraid to release them so we would leave them there
in plastic prison
until they asphyxiated
then we'd vacuum up their everything
discard them in the big gray bin behind the house
and wait for someone to come pick up the trash