Clade Song 14

Firebug
Pyrrhocoris apterus

Despite the name, poets 
ignore us. We wear a red
and black shield the size
of your pinkie. Patterned 
with markings an anthropologist 
would adore. Some confuse
us with the cinnamon bug –
a triangle patterned bastard
with no friends. The firebug
should be turning eyeballs 
into silly putty. Grace the catwalk 
of every Instagram feed.
We're on fire! Don't you just 
love a beetle that can alight
the imagination with a single click?
We'll rule the underworld 
one day, taste the flames
as your soul is chargrilled
to our liking.