LAS MARIPOSAS Copyright 2013 Paul Belz
Sunshine splits into prism,
becomes flesh, scatters.
Some bits stay pure white.
Others turn moon yellow,
dusk orange. Jade green chards
feast on fallen mangos
next to tan wasps.
Red and white postmen
dart among ferns.
Blue morphos, big
as an open hand
made from basalt night
and iridescent blue sky
fly in semicircles, arcs, erratic angles
past basilisk lizards, caimans, macaws
in this land of eternal green
where no four plants are the same.
They drink fermented fruit.
Some call them barracho.
They briefly land,
fold themselves tight, turn brown.
hide in dead leaves.
Clear wings place their feet on bird shit,
absorb the taste. “Nobody eat me!
You’ll get a mouth full of stink!”
Transparent forms let the woods
flow through. Elusiveness is grace.
Puerto Jimenez, Costa Rica. 7/12