RAISING BUTTERFLIES WITH YOU, BY T. DALLAS SAYLOR |
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after Jack Gilbert When the one we called Banana—born first, deformed, crumpled wings stuck in his chrysalis, whom we set in a little dish with a stick for support, his own nectar, his own banana slice— at last lay still, when we took him down to the bushes, laid him beneath a leaf— and when, days after, we let the others go, unzipped their mesh on the porch & nudged them into the wind— two weeks to mate, lay eggs, lie down on the earth—I felt grateful for those few days, proud as Banana breathed though spiracles lining his bent back, lucky the ones in the netting tickled my fingers when I reached inside to give them sugar water— after all, beloved, we’re all ending our triumph, falling through a chill late-fall wind or holding fast to a little stick and living as hard as we can. |
T. Dallas Saylor is a PhD student in poetry at Florida State University, and he holds an MFA from the University of Houston. His work meditates on the body, especially gender and sexuality, against physical, spiritual, and digital landscapes. He lives in Tallahassee, FL and is on Twitter: @dallas_saylor.