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| A Monarch butterfly on milkweed. |
Monarch butterflies have been spotted in these parts and noted on friends’
Facebook posts. So it was a three years ago when someone
posted a postmortem photo that set
the poetic juices running. Hence, a re-run.
 |
| Inspiration. Photo by Lisa Haderlein |
The Lovely Corpse
Monarchs, they
say, are a dying breed.
Not the
superfluous Royals of Windsor
or oil rich Arabs.
They will
disappear, too,
in their own
good time
but are not our
business here today.
I am talking
about those golden orange and black
zephyr riding marvels that by the
millions
used brighten Septembers
with hints golden autumn yet to come
on their epic migrations
from Canadian prairies
to Mexican piney woods.
They are scarcer
with every passing year.
Now each
sighting is an adventure
like spotting some rare songbird
flitting unexpectedly from bough to
bough.
They say the
warming world is to blame
which is tough on common milkweed,
the migrant’s only diet.
Perhaps.
But if I say it
out loud,
some Fox News
talking head
will scream that
I’m a liar and a fraud
and someone will
decide that after all
they are illegal
immigrants
and likely
terrorists to boot
and propose to
build a wall net
to ensnare them
lest they
infect our
purity.
A friend of mine
espied one the other day
and thought to snap a photo,
but the monarch was not on wing
or resting on some rare milkweed
pod,
but splatted against the gleaming
grill
of a Jaguar.
Think of all
that horse power
from the carbon spewing engine
that cooks the atmosphere
that kills the milkweed
yet made this assassination
personal.
—Patrick
Murfin
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