Imperfect Specimen

I never really knew you,

but here you are anyway

pinned like a butterfly 

to my desk. 

Your velvet thorax 

thumps like a metronome, 

invisible ellipses recording 

the length of my examination 

into why I thought you 

should be as attached 

to this life as I am 

and why I didn’t just open 

the window when I had 

the chance to follow you 

and find out where you 

might be going.

[LSS, 4/4/21]