by Wren Donovan

We choose where to dig
with soft brushes, careful,
string a polygon grid based on rumors.

Smoke-choked and salty, a stalker
in dark rooms, flashlight
over unconscious Eros.

Fluorescent light, stuttering
lays bare the butterfly
buried in bone and debris.

We seek fleshy red-scented certainty,
find only fossils and holes.

Wren Donovan lives in Tennessee. She studied at Millsaps College, UNC-Chapel Hill, and University of Southern Mississippi. Her poetry can be found in Orca, Poetry South, Cumberland River Review, Yellow Arrow, Ink Drinkers, Harpy Hybrid Review, and elsewhere in print and online including WrenDonovan.com.