‘Holometabolism’ by Sarah Kelly

Poetry

5 Mar

spun one sun-filled july day, an oblong tract
of flat yellow grass is the only tell-tale sign
that here, a tent once stood.
for two weeks, dome clung to earth. you carried
in stuffed toys, sleeping bags, pillows, four
library books, a table & three chairs.
preparing for end time. then you waved, all
three, & a hand rose the zipper into
a silken arch & all went still.
sometimes, an indistinguishable hand
would press against the mesh window,
sometimes a face, in 3-D relief,
obscure as pin art. something was being broken
down, being digested from the inside out, a braid
of imaginal cells forging a new body.
for two weeks, you reconstructed yourselves,
coexisting as survivors before emerging
skinless & smooth. like eggs.