"nymphalidae" poems
Biology was their favorite subject
The frog pinned
to the polyurethane
grinned
a mask of death
But the smile was wider
to those that wielded the scalpel
the cut so precise
to examine the internal organs
exposed beneath a bated breath
Lycaenidae, Nymphalidae,
Papilionidae, Pieridae, Riodinidae
They are all butterflies
but they become one by the sword
the sharp taste of steel
that bound them, spread eagled
beneath the smile of their Lord
beneath their Lucite coffin
they never become bored
Ancient bones of ancient beings
beg to be laid to rest
beside all those that
fall close to extinction
because they have been there
and done that
and are now displayed
in their very finest
Trophies that line the walls
behind glass and whispers in the hall
A hushed reverence that is displayed
while the suit walks tall
wondering why
we should be a hater
When all he has done is preserve
a world gone mad and has come undone
Like the bones of his first victims
he brings life back
in a macabre display
He stands tall, but walks alone
yesterday
a Serial Killer
today
a Museum Curator
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 5:55 AM UTC
I once saw a butterfly with bruised wings and, in that moment, I understood what it felt like to break the most fragile, beautiful part of oneself
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC