Poems
Lepidopteran Print E-mail
At night I hang upside down
in the closet,
swaddled in raw silk.
The blood pours into my head
and I see things
from a new perspective.
I'd rather be in bed
but you say I don't fit;
these things take time.
I remember your pheromones
as new flesh unfolds.
Filigree veins
branch and rebranch;
skin stretches tight.
When the alarm goes off
the metamorphosis stops
and I brush my teeth.
No one knows yet
I'm growing wings
for you.
 
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