Swallowtail

In my dream last night

our glass-jarred chrysalis

hatched huge and unwieldy,

and your ten-year-old fingers

fashioned bright splints of balsa

to prop up its wings.

Now, as the world wakes,

you cry out

that the pearled green lobe

is finally darkening to life.

You lie barely breathing on the grass

in the slow seep of dew,

custodial,

watching the pulsing thorax

slide free of its milky husk.

Witnesses

of another winged birth,

we watch these crumpled rag-wings,

night wings, neon-dusted,

stretch to taut velvet,

shore up the air beneath them,

and lift, lift

to enter the shifting clouds

as truth enters a dream.

About these ads
Sponsored Content by LockerDome

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK