A big tiger swallowtail its right wing mutilated
As if a bite had taken away the teardrop process
That gives the bug its name and plenty more
And yet it moved across the flowers with apparent unconcern
As if what you don’t know can’t hurt you

Is this butterfly less beautiful than its kin
Will it be less successful at attracting a mate
Still it pursues its useful business
But does calamity trouble in silence its airborne memory
Even an insect avoids threat and thus expresses its will to life

And thus the dread terror for a child
Born insensible to pain
And do people on the ground know their damages
And therefore adopt the futile routines of endless healing
Or deny them with phantom compensation