Page 23 - flying stones

part 2: cocoon

my body struggles between beings:

the caterpillar I was and who I might be.
will answering caterpillar questions

tell me what this puzzle means?

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

I feel a rage for loss of sunny meadow’s daze,

taste of food upon my feet, sense of danger

and delight, whirring of wings in the wind.
where did they go?

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

my caterpillar memory fades

into shades of bright colors that graft

onto my scales of skin, membranes of wings.
how is this so?

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.