On the Mend of Metamorphose

Cup me in the palm of your hand

On the cusp of cattail ridge

My body: a vessel stocking ecstasy

Traverses the broken bridge

Lend me lucid lengths of yarn

As my pattern’s form evolves

I wish to fasten the chain of stars

In which we exist, are reborn

With sixteen legs and eighty toes

I hand knit my cocoon

Enveloping two broken bones

Cradle this form brand new

Forty + Days I am sat still

On the mend of metamorphose

My wings which itch to self-suffice

Remain restrained in self-repose

Our feet skim the pond, the lake

I rinse of sands and sins

Antennae twitch over sensed

An insect submerges in swim

Water drips down my skin

And still it starts to sweat

I am a wounded butterfly

Trapped inside your netm