by Angela Nishimoto
Blue butterfly with black, brown
And green marks. Carried by the breeze and
Her own limp exertions, she beats
Her wings dizzy without sugar-fuel for
Two days. Blown from continental beach
Out to the Pacific Ocean, she opens her wings, closes.
Swooped upon by the god-wind, she cannot resist.
She is lepidopteran, an animal, so she must eat.
A few days out of her cocoon, she is birth aging expiring rebirth,
Wings wet and crumpled at first,
Like the face of a human after borne
Thrusting through a small space making her way
Out of entombment/cocoonment.
She heaves breath through spiracles, swelling
Her body with oxygen: Life in the
Burning of sugar-fuel
For energy. The devil’s bargain in the burning is
Oxidation—cell senescence and death.
She is innocent of knowledge of her certain
Fate, also unknowing of her current
Situation. Blown from her native land,
She flies high over the sea to arrive, survive, and
Multiply in a new, no-longer-foreign shore—an
Atoll in the middle of the blue Pacific medium.
Angela Nishimoto grew up on the windward side of O`ahu, teaches on the leeward side, and lives in Honolulu with her husband. She has published over thirty works locally in Hawai`i and nationally. She holds the M.S. in botanical science from the University of Hawai`i at Manoa.
One response to “Immigrant”
Hi Angela, nice to read your poem. Ass an astute observer of nature you have captured the inside scoops on lepidoperine dispersal 🧐