Caterpillar

Sylvia was struck by lightning while reading in bed one night

She’d left the window open, the storm caught her by surprise

For days she lay still as stone hooked to pumps and tubes

Then out her window the street lights flashed and at last a finger moved

She awoke to a cacophony of electric and radio waves

Pulsing rays of energy falling from outer space

High in swaying towers, down in basements full of dust

She could not escape the static, the sixty cycle hum

She wore dark-tinted spectacles, several fur-lined capes

Three pairs of velvet gloves, a veil of dotted swiss

But all the Earth’s vibrations still pounded through her ears

So she packed a steamer trunk, flew a prop plane to Belize

From there a log raft took her over raging waterfalls

Deep within uncharted jungle where giant caterpillars crawl

They spun their silk around her, a cocoon beneath the trees

And still she hangs there swaying, deep within the dripping leaves

Keeping time with every rumble, every quiver of the Earth

And she slowly changes shape with the turning of the world