3. The Old-Growth Forest’s Mad Days in the Sun

Imagine a world full of pestering, persistent bugs.

Those ants are hard-working, and decent, and even good.

Imagine ants devouring a human heart; still beating


But hurting.


If you want to know about loneliness, ask a dog

(there’s too many strays around)


The little girl remembered Rhodes

Butterfly Valley adorned her mind with wild things

Shyness couldn’t stop it, nor fear;

She was primitive, barbaric, boundless—


So much peace inside such a little girl

Was she dead? Had she gone to Heaven?

Her hands would smile and she’d look up at her


Daddy –


she’d kiss him and trust him with rollercoasters and dreams


Words would make her skin itch but she never said a word

After all, she was to blame

And the bruises, the fear, the love.


Mademoiselle had never met a scorpion

Spiders yes, and mosquitoes and bumblebees (many of them)

And out of fear,

She took tiny bites of her food.


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