light, multiplied by Michelle Bailat-Jones

science tells us that a caterpillar has a simple
eye, and is blind except to light and dark

I read this on a train in Washington state
while it rocked gently down the Pacific coast

an osprey outside the window caught a fish and flew
off with it, and everyone who saw this felt connected

a man shared the dining car table with me,
our notebooks and papers touching sometimes

but unreadable behind our precisely placed arms
I kept wondering about the chrysalis

and how the moth’s eyes inside change
from simple to compound

why then does the moth, with its new eyes,
hunger so intensely for the flame? maybe it’s

because of memory, of that time in its life
when pure light was all that mattered

the man reminded me of someone I used to love
and the resemblance brought me out of myself

not that I spoke—but I was open to him
and he noticed, and was open to me, too

everyone around us kept to the windows
hoping for another swoop of feather

and clutch of talon, hoping there would be again
the rise of silver scales glinting high over the trees

………………..

Michelle Bailat-Jones is a writer and literary translator living in Switzerland. She is the author of the novels Unfurled and Fog Island Mountains.

Twitter: @mbailatj