I paint flowers decorated with caterpillars.
I want to inquire into everything that exists and find
out how it began.
out how it began.
—Maria Sibylla Merian
From basil, the scorpion.
—Athanasius Kircher
From pine tree resin, amber.
From fury, hail.
From acacia’s sap, the bond.
From raindrops, frogs.
From clay, yellow ochre.
From dust, fleas.
From the beetle, carmine.
From mud, the beetle.
From the murex snail, violet.
From sea foam, the anchovy.
From the lamb, parchment.
From the bull, the bee.
What?
From the mouth of a slaughtered bull,
cloaked in thyme and serpyllium,
the bee.
From the sable, the brush tip.
From books, the moth.
From the eagle, swan, crow, lark,
the diminishing quills.
From fire, red snow and the west wind,
the worm.
From the worm, the silk moth.
From vapor, the silk moth.
What? From the spun cocoon, the silk moth.
Yes. From steam and bluster,
the silk moth.
From the silk moth’s mouth,
the potentate’s cloak.
From the potentate’s horse,
the hornet.
Copyright © 2017 by Linda Bierds. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on September 25, 2017, by the Academy of American Poets.