- The Bug Chaser
Call me an eater of butterflies dancingmyself lonely. A fat dumb animal,
my mouth a mouth mouthingall the pretty husks: God-folded
origami: easy bodies creased and unfoldingwithin reach of my mouth like a song
on the tip ofmy tongue—that rind of sweet ruin
ruining me good. At this hour,there are only delicious men, painted
in night, their lips flitting in and outof trees, promising
what can not be promised.But it’s so dark here
who could make them out?They’ll live to be butterflies parading
with wings paintedin a delectable poison. Any animal hungry enough
would lap their hemlockto sleep inside the shucked bells. [End Page 32]
Tommye Blount currently lives in Novi, Michigan—thirty minutes outside of his hometown of Detroit. A graduate from Warren Wilson College’s MFA Program for Writers, he has been the recipient of fellowships and scholarships from Cave Canem and the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the following publications: Black Tongue Review, Poetry, New England Review, Indiana Review, Vinyl, and elsewhere.