Anatomy Class

I find her, on her back, trembling,

Her legs swinging high above her head

As if she were climbing an invisible ladder,

Or a branch.

I can't tell if she is really female;

To me, all dragonflies look the same.

I search the ground for a makeshift gurney,

Hoping a tissue paper will do.

The cold autumn kills.

I can’t save her.

In my room, she rests inside a pickling jar.

I watch her breathing, seeing

The vibration of seraphim’s wings

Trembling before God.

Her opalescence overwhelms me.

She twitches, occasionally, in quiet agony.

Her winged body,

Outstretched like a cross

Encrusted in jewels that glisten

In the light from my halogen lamp,

Lies ever more still.

I breathe on her,

Hoping the warmth reminds her of sunlight,

a breeze of summer, a bit of grass.

She barely moves now;

Only a relaxing of joints,

I tell myself,

Only a relaxing of joints.