Clear and cold. In their communal tent, the caterpillars lie still as mummies in a tomb—gray forms already in their burial wrappings.


  1. Marble Canvas

    Clear and cold. This morning Sir Richard Burton
    lies on his slab where the light of morning
    pours through a marble canvas. His wife lies
    on a lower slab, and all around the pink-pearl dawn,
    flushed, like milk with a little blood stirred in,
    laps in, just as she planned it, just as she pictured it,
    when he said “I don’t give a damn. Just
    don’t put me in the dark.” He wanted to be
    left in the desert or tossed into the sea, he had said:
    but seeing the trouble on her Catholic face, he softened.
    Anywhere, he said. Doesn’t matter. Just not dark.

    1. Must have been the words “tent” and “tomb” together that fished this up.

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