[Second place winner in the Synapse Storytelling Contest poetry category.]
I like butterflies and
butterflies like salt.
In the Amazon Rainforest the
butterflies land on me
desperate for sodium
when I set up tripods for research.
They flutter around my sweaty shoes,
they swarm the toilets,
they linger while I bathe outside.
In the rainforest
I set out at sunrise to start experiments and
spend all day in the jungle
with butterfly upon butterfly.
In the presence of people at camp I feel
Muted.
I am somewhat quiet at baseline
but at camp I am quieter.
I cannot stand the yapping of people and
I prefer the yapping of insects so
I escape into the trees.
I worry a lot.
I worry that I’m unapproachable,
I worry that my experiments could be much better,
I worry that my bias clouds my work,
I worry that I’m not a particularly noble person.
But at least in the jungle it’s simpler:
butterflies drink my sweat and for once,
I am Salt of the Earth.
