Metamorphosis V

Slip down into the low bed of flowers
outside Mrs. Slatterly’s window,
on the corner of Dunn and Dam.
Listen to that black widow cry
as shards of glass pierce her wax
lips, as her hips move slowly
from right to left.

Please, let the hornets bore in your nose
as if they were returning to the warm womb
of their once loving mothers,

because the scent of fresh candy
apples is like nothing else. I fear
you don’t understand.

Do not question me! sweet child,
or the world will once again turn

to salt.