Octubre

by Laura Foley

 
If you saw me driving in this pelting rain,
you’d never guess my errand: to buy
lilies for my butterfly.
He’ll savor the aroma of flowers,
this cold November day,
since wild blooms have faded
into memory—if he has one.
Octubre lives in a screened-in cage,
because I couldn’t let him out
in last week’s snow, could I?
He seems content, his feet sticky
against the screen, pleased to drink,
when I uncurl his proboscis
with a toothpick, dip it
in honey water, while he sucks
through his trunk-like tongue.
I say he because he has two spots
like eyes, on either side of his wings,
that mean boy, good for our family
of two lesbians, two bitches
(a Shepherd and a Lab),
and thirty thousand girl bees
who spent the whole autumn
dragging the hairy drones
out of the hive, killing them,
dumping the corpses in a heap underneath.
I’m just saying, it’s good to have
some masculine energy present,
even if it’s just one Monarch
who hangs upside-down all day
and sometimes flutters his gorgeous wings.


* * * * *
 
"Octubre" was first published in Gemini Magazine.

Laura Foley is the author of seven poetry collections. Why I Never Finished My Dissertation received a starred Kirkus Review, was among their top poetry books of 2019, and won an Eric Hoffer Award. Her collection It's This is forthcoming from Salmon Press. Her poems have won numerous awards, and national recognition—read by Garrison Keillor on Writers Almanac; appearing in Ted Kooser’s American Life in Poetry. Laura lives with her wife among Vermont hills. www.lauradaviesfoley.com