Rosalie Moffett • Instar and Eclose
I know metamorphosis turns
into a caterpillar and then into a gypsy moth
with a furry mouth. I’ve learned
To mimic injury
the plover fakes an ineffectual
wing. Failure: the lure
of a wound is always enticing
away from something
I’ve ever kissed
was a tree
in boy’s clothing. Every time I’ve yawned
it’s tasted like apples. I climb
into the white silk gown—it’s more
of revision—made by tent caterpillars.
They ruin the tree into a shimmering.
Rosalie Moffett was the winner of a 2012 “Discovery”/Boston Review poetry prize, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Boston Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Believer, and Salt Hill.