MK Dunwody
butterfly
in the tiger pastures
here comes the devil
she is shining lovely
warm, her hair a bed
hungry
in her hand
a
butterfly
because back
when people were
naming things for
the first time
they thought
butterflies were witches
come to steal
their butter
i thought, this changes everything!
but,
if witches need butter to fly
in the first place then which
came first
the fly or the butter
at the edge of the woods and
always at the edge of the woods
the hedge
at the hedge between the edge
and the edge of the woods
from behind the hedge comes edging
along the edge of the woods
my hedge
and I always have to explain how I love the devil
like a mother
a wicker basket
holding fresh butter
to ring
around my fingers
how I love the devil like a grass lover
slicing runes into my body
housing groats and canopy
how I love the devil like a butterfly
drinking blood at the river bank
ecstatic, and sucking
at my milk tooth
begging
the howling mouse
in my camisole to bear
against the sharp
breakfast of my temple
rabbit
spring as if nothing
everywhere, babies
darting risk their resemble
which
a starvation, like as well as rabbit itself
a pretty pathetic lack
is better than nothing
that's resilience and the back of your cupboard,
a sardine idea
again. fear is largely considered, nonetheless,
fear and fertility is afraid for its life,
and so manic - thin-boned, it is no longer absurd
after every rabbit
to the rabbit now is a time essential
enough to place rabbit a mineral affinity
the bones stress absurd
your body while reasonable, is better to stave off
loosen those confined, reeling, nutritive
as above all, here is the been-missing order
to be the rabbit heard: i'm going to die, i've got to now.
dog
dog is a Chekhovian gun
a prop for death, almost
always present for deliberate
violence but
this dog doesn’t die in the end
selah
was born in trash
like a lot of dogs, there
was very little time for the ecstasy
of breathing and milk before the fleas
and the maggots at the heart
of the condition of living
set the clock
and the preponderance of banishment,
disaster, and ache
selah
toned
inside the cathedral ceiling
of her dog mouth escapes into
the archangel gold rapturing
rings of an iris illuminated
amongst the impossible softness
of poverty
selah
in a rare feast of exile
had acquired the edible bulb of the lily of the saints
milked a sparrow-full and without heaving
churned the absolute cloudland without
selah
the lambs quarter groundcover should suffice
dog humility is to this day unsurpassed
this is a much longer story
than any of us have time for
selah
doesn’t die and will never
not inhabit the throne of this
selah
wordless dog religion
well, the crucible of her
selah
ribcage drops the racing
hare runabout selah
the dreaming ancient crow-bold
offerings laid on
selah
downy bosom cherry-ripe selah
her soft bite selah
carrying to you, behold, the boiled egg
selah
of the world’s long overdue nap