October Monarch

because Becca found cancer in October, when I always remember

There are butterflies
in my stomach— chrysalis

ache of acid turning
bitter legged worms into monarch

wings. I throw back my head
gaze at sky, open wide my mouth

let in light. They crawl my column
of breath past teeth

and tongue, perch on parched
lips, unfold and dry. Then one

by one leap! flutter! wing away
to warmer climes where they

eat flowers, lay eggs in someone
else’s grief and quietly die.

2010/2011