What
is happening in this sprawling world
As
you flex your crooked sunset wings?
I
press them firmly between hot irons
Dry
as paper, these delicate things
I
admire your starry thorax, the blacks, my favorite part.
He
just sighs and rolls his eyes
I
call you “sweetheart.”
He
laughs, “Let nature take its course!”
“Rachel
suggests I should keep her alive;
She
says she’ll stop eating if she’s ready to die.”
“They
don’t have volition,” he snorts,
“I’ll
crush her for you if you prefer.”
“An
act of chivalry?” I sneer, then whisper,
“You look straighter.”
Into
what I think is your ear.
He
relates his daring Mexico trip way back in ’82
“Disgusting,”
he said, “A hemolymph rain!
Hell,
I just plowed right through!”
But
he is well traveled, and we are naïve
Single
minded captives of asymmetry
Deprived
of the trip would make us whole
I
ask,
“Should
I crush her fast or freeze her slow?”
