Friday, August 14, 2009

BUG WEEK: In Which I Share A (Sort Of) Secret

When I was young, e'en to my eighteenth year
I had a weakness easy to play on:
For nothing in the world gave me such fear
As insects, in the house, out on the lawn,
Once memorably in a campground sink -
Saturniid, there, I picture in my head.
The merest sight would make me scream. You'd think
Me stabbed. Now, "phobia" was never said
Though surely it was thought, as I could stand
A dragon- or a butterfly all right.
By college time it was, though, out of hand
And Bard is a most buggy place at night.
My cure? I took a course and learned each part
An insect has, and thereby lost my heart.

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