My bones shift, fall into place.
I cocoon. In my case, the metamorphosing
insect from the spreading board
is pinned down with a sturdy arm,
the only way to keep me. Still
I idle, veins beating, wings now
spotless, tongueless four-letter word
open. My outline, three-day tomb is
reaching like hands to touch, and
my miracle: my shadow grows.
When you study me, behind glass you’ll find
this, my scientific rebirth.
…
This, my scientific rebirth:
when you study me-behind-glass you’ll find
my miracle, my shadow grows,
reaching like hands to touch and
open. My outline, three-day tomb, is
spotless, tongueless. Four-letter word,
I i-d-l-e, veins beating wings. Now
the only way to keep me still
is pinned down with a sturdy arm.
Insect from the spreading board,
I cocoon in my case. The metamorphosing:
my bones shift, fall into place.
