vigorous, the
electric bulge beats
against the screen,
wings intent

on ripping,         body
tossed toward
the heat,
the infinite

reproduction.
Hooks, its
hands, ready
to sting,

clicked across the roof-
top, the dance
insistent, the
rhythm

mean. “The Cutter,
The Stabber, Queen
of the hollow, of
the underleaf,”

(what should my greeting be?
Blood plucked from
a knuckle? Soft flesh
of the neck?)

the dusty screen shields
                 my identity.
Hulked here
in this

hole, and the beetle
beats and beats,
perhaps in
a finality,

replaces the
quiet stalking
of doves, shaping
me,

single feather,
curling leaf,
the one ready
to crack and

                 fold, the
dance of skin,
flight of seed,
radiating

body no longer
bound to its being

Caleb Scott is a writer and actor. His plays and performance pieces have been produced and presented at venues in New York City and around the country. His writing has appeared in The Bellevue Literary Review, Nashville Review, Typishly Literary Journal, From Whispers to Roars, Eclipse, Peauxdunque Review, Coffin Bell Journal, Public Poetry Anthology, Swamp Ape Review, Grist, and December Magazine.