The persistent
pairings of nature:
butterfly and moth,
all grace and flutter,
flame and death. Always
terror crosses over into
beauty, the tender
undersides of caterpillars.
Then wings. Tremor of color.
Great shakings of flowers
and from somewhere,
waft of burning candles.
Tell me, where do
they die, effervescent
and funereal,
where do they live?
