Poem of the Month
The Genus Nabokovia

By Larissa Andrusyshyn

Published on March 2, 2015

Taste of tangerine.
Blue as Tuesday.
Wings, the texture of powdered sugar

Novelists are serious about taxonomy–
the blur of color and text on labels
of blue butterfly genera.

A microscope, like a silver spoon,
holds the parts in morsels.
Today is mundane lavender, classification and details.

Vera is dandelion yellow, pollen and wife.
I see the pearl white of obligation
when she gets into the driver’s seat.
Sound of commuter ferry and newspaper shuffle.

A butterfly is green, but mostly blue.
A moth is pink.

The swallowtail has photoreceptors in its appendage–
it sees with its genitalia.

He inks chapters on index cards.
The synesthesia crosses wires,
so lemons smell like August.

Marry a writer,
he tastes like the rust on bicycle wheels.

More Poetry

Finishing Salt

This is our end of season in the food forest. Bitter apple. Fairytale fungus. Spores so dry they fly and ...

The Story of Bones

The archaeologist’s daughter grew up in tombs. She spent her early childhood crawling through the volcanic ash, which preserved time. Her father dug tunnels in the ground, uncovered death masks, stumbled upon bones of winged beasts, while her baby hands clutched the cold earth.

Centre: Eochaill

Rise with the centre of the island, its thorny-backed middle. Climb, upwards from the main road, follow the ...