The Hell Butterfly

Archive for July, 2019

– Coffins –

To the loggers who tear us usunder:
we bare our sap
through split bark,
limbs stretched,
awaiting the teeth you chew us with.
To the cutters who divide us:
we offer ourselves
and watch as you dissect us,
piece by fractured piece,
nostalgic for the canopy from which we were felled.
To the carvers who shape us:
we lay naked,
our timbers shivering
as you, with knife and hand,
manipulate a vision for our vessels.
To the undertakers who bury us:
we are hollow now,
readily shelter another’s flesh
and weep no more on our descent
as you let us down.
From skyline to soil,
trunk to twig,
body to box,
we were always let down,
never more
than coffins.