Mercy

my anxiety has me lock-jawed what is worth speaking of somehow becomes pounded to a dull murmur.

so if the Monarch could speak, its very first word would be:

Wind.

And then, it would regale us with stories of Mexico, hidden fields of gold swaying in the sun and it would share in detail the colors it captures while sleeping in the Oyamel Fir.

So this is where you go when everything has teeth, sharp as bayonets?

-I ask myself.

And what would the praying mantis utter after a meal?

Bless Him.