Last Day as a Caterpillar (2007)
Flicka Flicka beats my unhoping heart.
My chest harbors a pipe-laying assassin. Glue on heads
and wiggly legs. Pump my abdomen with poison.
I will never become a nervous chrysalis.
Face detail of Last Day as a Caterpillar
~/~
Something newish. Made with Sterling-ware. Post-processed until it molted its skin and silk glands spun a cocoon. Poem from my larval brain refusing to transform into an adult.
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3 comments:
Last Day as a Caterpillar
Wherever wobbly bodies balloon
They slough off each drab cocoon
As spiracles gape and noggins nod
Antennae dart about for food
Instar limes the inner sheaves
Moulting on the mulberry leaves
Spinnerets transform to silk
Before being boiled in milk
[Disposable Poem Tuesday July 3, 2007]
Dr. Mike
Nice poem.
Good to see you back.
well, I have to disagree, you my friend do not have a "larval" brain ??
This is wonderful, I love the colors..
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