I’m working my passage on a fancy cruise ship
— well, my story is set on such a vessel —
I’m closing on Barbados,
when something flutters, then stops,
out of sight, behind my screen.
I stand and look over.
As liberal shepherds know dead men’s fingers by a grosser name
so do these creatures have a vulgar vulgar name,
but she visits me tonight in a dazzling carapace
specked with gems.
The enemy of my tomato is also my enemy, I know this,
but her brief passage falls outside the usual times and terms.
