paul weinman
abugoned
Seemingly disconsolant, this caterpillar walked
... with those stumpy green prolegs of theirs ...
onto my arm, making its way up to my tattoo.
It's of a dragonfly, blue. The caterpillar
stopped at those big eyes, as if in conversaion.
I watched, listened, felt the itch of communication.
They each seemed to agree with a tip of head.
The caterpillar clammored onto the dragonfly's back.
It's wings seemed to stir, head to tilt
then, they flew off toward the moon
leaving me alone in that room.
