by Duncan Richardson
The butterfly house greets
with the fecund scent of Asia
birdwings deltawings
flickering jungle shadows
they fan the damp leaves.
An attendant in a lime green shirt
opens a cabinet of pupa
and prods a butterfly
fresh and tentative
from one cage to another.
Scaled wings flap at the metal screen
fumes leak in
unseen engines throttle back.
Scarlet flowers in butterfly shapes
draw curling tongues
birdwing deltawing
muzak and damp cement.
At the doorway a sign
Don’t be concerned.
Our butterflies are harmless.