By Scott Beal
they had to go on doing algebra
and taking out the trash
there was no patch they could point to
and say that’s where he lies
the man who scrubbed their shower sometimes
and filled their stockings
when asked why I didn’t attend recitals or graduations
they answered that I had been taken by butterflies
and that ended the conversation
to their uncles and the police
it looked exactly as if I had gone out
to get a cigarette from the glove box
and never come back
only the two of them bore witness
to the color in which I was lifted
and how my voice calling I love you
grew smaller and smaller
they alone remembered
the first gem-tone dazzle unfolding
on my forearm
as we three stared in amazement
at this momentary blessing
the little feet pressed into my follicles
the compound eyes and coiled proboscis
before they swarmed
over my limbs and face
and lifted me into the sky
and past the sky
Scott Beal is the author of Wait ‘Til You Have Real Problems (Dzanc Books, 2014). His poems have appeared recently or are forthcoming in The Collagist, Chattahoochee Review, Four Way Review, SiDEKiCK, and other journals. He teaches in the Sweetland Center for Writing at the University of Michigan and serves as Dzanc Writer-in-Residence at Ann Arbor Open School. He co-hosts a monthly reading series called Skazat! in Ann Arbor.
