Screwing Butterflies
It’s one of those chance finds —
a glorious Common Crow
lying on the footpath
missing an abdomen
just thorax and wings
still intact
though turned and twisted
into an unnatural pose
markings unsullied
cream spots curdled on black.
squatting on the sidewalk
I take my time
scooping it into a tissue
ignoring passers-by
who stare at my hand
in undisguised disgust.
in the studio
I untwist the wings
sponging the green trail
of gelatinous ooze
dabbing a spot of superglue
on a black screw —
a make-shift abdomen.
and attaching the top half
I spread out its wings
mount the Common Crow
and get ready to have a go
when Val came by unannounced.
she can’t decide the term for me
depraved necrophiliac, she says
tapping her walking stick
and screwing up her nose
but I assure her
that that’s not what this is —
that I brought it home
for a model
not a lay.
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