by Scott Lilley
Some memories are like grit peppering snow;
a lethargic commute sinking through to asphalt
then dissolving into time.
This one’s set in a municipality
of Rhodes; a valley of sweetgum trees,
secreting storax and carved
by the Pelecanos’ stream.
Note the basal cavities and cankers
where pupas could cling;
the trunk cracks, pollards
and forks of limbs,
all lined with Tiger Moths
in their aestivation.
You could scuff your knees
on every step before you reach
Kalopetra Monastery.
But in this thought,
I’ve draped you in bubble-wrap.
I’ve draped the trees too,
and the moths.
I am an amateur taxidermist;
with tweezers eyelash-thin
I’ve taken every abdomen,
placed one in each bubble,
to create a menagerie
of insecty memory.
Scott Lilley is twenty-two years old living in Shropshire. He recently graduated from Lancaster University and is currently reading towards an MSt in Creative Writing at Oxford University. His previous work has been included in The Airgonaut, Poetry NI’s FourXFour, Eunoia Review and Three Line Poetry. He can be found on Twitter @scottglilley.
