The caterpillar is all belly but
the butterfly is obsessed by sex.
The chaotic flight is a safari
of painted ladies, a random whorey
weariness. Then she lays her down in dust
– the shuddering & the symmetric wings –
& drops her million peppery seeds
to probe with fœtal hands & eat & die.
Each life is built on the last, simple
addition of bulk & belly, until
the ultimate appearance of order
& symmetry in the butterfly’s wings.
The series has no meaning, a pattern
of recurrence. Each term is appetite.