Caterpillar
The yellow and black caterpillar
concertina’s around my wrist.
Around and around my wrist it trundles
on those stumpy limb nubbins
neither veering left or right.
It’s a creature unaware of distance
and so must constantly search
for nearness.
Wherever its fuzzy head leads
that is its world, only the nearby
is myopically absorbed.
I pluck it up from its lonely trek,
place it onto a mulberry bush,
The slinky pauses,
then commences to chomp
through a dark green leaf –
another world to ingest
yet more nearness to convert
into yellow and black grubbiness.
One day, distance will call to its
tunnel vision,
it will burst apart,
as if it were a dark star
rent asunder.
The far flung will open
under a dizziness of wings -
both greeting and farewell
merging into one topsy-turvy
last flutter of glory.
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