Elegy, yet again

Not a pyre, but a chimney,

a beetle shaking mercilessly
on top of my doormat
to the sound of its own catharsis
a tongue my neck both hands
shaking exactly the same.

My teeth as antenna
& my cords wings
Sing

I watched a beetle die today;

not a crate not a crypt not a pyre
fire fire fire fire

 

Clara Paiva is an undergraduate student at the University of São Paulo, Brazil. Her work has appeared in Occulum, FIVE:2:ONE, Rag Queen Periodical, and Moonchild Magazine.