From A New Book of Beasts

Long ago, they formed in blue-black space; before butterflies appeared.
Even now, Milky Way’s gamma rays power their off-white wings,
but you call them Drab, and Nuisance. No. Call them Subtle Beauty.
They skip showy flutters, air shows, flouncy dips, and so forth. When you sleep—
their respite from your ceaseless human mischief—moths fly out from corners;
their secret shadows. Call them Clever, call them Covert. At night, for the benefit of beings,
they pollinate, sip nectar—honeysuckle, flowering tobacco,
may apple—under the Moon’s jurisdiction. Through them, all things are made.





Lisa Bellamy studied with Philip Schultz at The Writers Studio, where she teaches. She lives in New Jersey and the Adirondack Park, and works as a researcher for The Episcopal Church. She is the author of The Northway (Terrapin Books) and Nectar, a chapbook, and has received two Pushcart Prizes and a Fugue Poetry Prize. Her poem “Yoho” appeared in the United Nations Network on Migration’s 2022 multi-media climate change exhibition. For additional information, visit: