poem by Adam Chambers


The caterpillars fed themselves from their own mound of shit
Inside the plastic cup. They spun themselves
Each into a chrysalis and then emerged dripping
Red, waxy blood onto the bottom. They did it
While nobody wet the bed anymore. While we were mowing
Each other crazy in our backyards, waiting
For a billion years to go by. They did it while we were swimming
Upstream to meet our dead fathers and then coming back
To the place we love.