Lepidopterist

Here I am being silent again
leaned to the cases of butterflies and moths.
Outside this hall, tourists shift in eddies
around arches and parks.

How can dead things be so beguiling?
Nothing moves. Nothing changes.
I tap on the glass prison
re-classify the kingdom
moving the phyla like leaves in a cup.
I am the seer of an everlasting today
what do I dream about when I wake up?

Always the same: a burning magnesium flash
as I stand on the look-out at Hamano-Machi
never able to step outside when
pebbles are white under moon
afraid still of night. That is why I come every day
to study the specimens in the cabinets
read the scrolls of pinned backed wings.

Outside the tourists tempt green parakeets with handfuls of seeds
here I am being silent.