For Hank
As he tells us about how his son
died in front of him, I think about
the caterpillar my daughter left
in a bucket, in the sun, earlier today,
and listen to the wipers whoosh
against my conscience and the
windshield. Without consideration,
I say oh my god, I am so sorry
then have a sudden compulsion to
take back my response. Surely the
caterpillar won’t survive and even
though the rain stopped, the wipers
still move back and forth in lieu
of conversation. Oh god, I am so sorry,
so so sorry, I am. Did you know
caterpillars are boneless,
but have over a thousand muscles?
–Rebecca Schumejda