ars poetica (cocoons) by Dana Levin

[peccare.livejournal.com]

Six monarch butterfly cocoons

clinging to the back of your throat—



you could feel their gold wings trembling.



You were alarmed. You felt infested.

In the downstairs bathroom of the family home,

gagging to spit them out—

and a voice saying Don’t, don’t—

Comments

[urbisrelinquam.livejournal.com]

Man, this poem is beautiful but really horrifying (a little bit too Silence of the Lambs) at the same time. *shudder*