Caterpillar
It concertinas over my skin,
around my wrist it trundles
on those stumpy limb nubbins
neither veering left or right.
Sublimely unaware of distance,
even when it lifts its round
jaw-bound head,
the yellow and black larva
searches only for a green world
to clamp onto.
I pluck it up from its lonely trek,
place it onto a Mulberry bush -
the fuzzy slinky pauses,
then commences to chomp down
on one more world,
a place that in time,
will be converted
to a yellow and black
grubbiness.
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