Zela Listens to Lepidoptera

Viceroys rush toward your pearl crescents
hurry near the lustrous copper and cloudless
sulphur of your knowing lens, where the flutter
of Swallowtail glides past Painted Lady
and the mesmerizing dance of Monarch.
Mourning Cloak carves its life into question
marks as Gray Comma pauses to ponder
its continuance. The kaleidoscope swirls
as your interior stirs with the vibrational
echoes of lepidoptera, alters air molecules
into language, where the metalmarks sense
your angst, mobilize to communicate the task
at hand: “We are dying! We must petition
human saviors!”