jupiter beetles 

it was hot enough yesterday to melt
the jupiter beetles back into metal
where they came from. 

i bend down to ask them how many centuries 
it's taken them to train precious gems 
the same glisten as their skeletons

they with the mouth of swarm-- angry 
drone soul leaving the ground 

the beetles test the limit of the atmosphere

the beetles push themselves into my
knuckles like rings

there's aluminum foil
in the top drawer of my dresser--
i wrap myself & kneel out in
the sun in the hopes of becoming
baked-potato soft

if i'm not careful they'll start 
to swarm around my head like a halo or a crown-- 
linking together in a line at my forehead
a circlet 

in the bathroom mirror i peel them off--
clattering like jewels on tile floor

the drain gulps them down as they 
turn molten & melted under the shower head

pull back the foil & i'll open
my mouth to let out the steam-- the metal 
is contagious & soon enough you're 
bending me-- crinkling & folding.
you take a beetle between your
thumb & index finger & squash him
into a tight ball 

we'd find the carcasses & put them 
in wooden chest beside bismuth &
quartz-- the shine from the beetles
making nightlight voices from inside

open the cabinet when it talks to
you but don't be surprised when you
wake up silver or bronze-- there's no
such thing as gold-- there's just the 
right reflection in the body
of metallic animals

you know it's june because the 
sunsets are adolescent. the beetles 
are crowning everyone king who they see 

you're not special & neither am i
but you should keep the beetles
somewhere-- 

save them for the cold months 
when you can open the drawer &
make a sun out of them

crown me again though when i walk
down by the holly bushes & the flowers--

teach me metal forevers