butterfly sauce in poetry

caterpillars
don't change cleanly
inside their cocoons
they don't just morph
they dissolve into ooze
before they are reborn

cut open a chrysalis
if you don't mind murdering bugs
if you can deal with the loss
in that time in between
there's no caterpillar
and no butterfly
just sauce

they don't just shape-shift
they are not transformers
things don't just spin
and twist and click
and there they are
they have to fall apart
almost completely
to become new

well HERE I AM, LORD
I'M BROKEN DOWN TO GOO
HOW LONG BEFORE WHAT'S LEFT
DOES THIS JELL-O NEED TO SET
IT'S BEEN A GODDAMNED WHILE NOW
AND I'VE NOT ONE WING YET

and butterflies are ugly up-close
they're only pretty from a distance
the myth of magic all breaks down
at the magnifier's insistence
but I was such a good little wooly-bear
and ugliness I'm willing to bear
I've had enough of home on the range
I'm ready to be something strange
I'm ready to change

I've marinated
in stagnation and loss
I've marinated
in my own butterfly sauce
and now I'm ready

for what, I dunno
but I'm ready