The Maynard
Spring 2018

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Blue Morpho Butterfly (Morpho Menelaus)

There is something of the old magicians’ credo
in their stubbornness to give up their secrets.

The first New World colonizers collected them
by the thousands, hoping to distill the pigment

which had baffled their science, but when
the wings were crushed into dust they became

as dull as earth. Such a failure was implicit
in their understanding of color as a specimen,

as a crucifixion on black velvet. That taxonomy
of Latin has no word for blue-turning-bluer.

It took the invention of the electron microscope
to reveal nanostructures, millions of perforations

in the two dimensions of its wings which refract
the light into the lower spectrum. Almost,

you can imagine this as proof of the divine,
bending wavelengths through the human eye

as though it had evolved only to be witnessed:
an iridescent hinge, holding open our momentary awe.

As if the holes we make in our own lives,
or those left by others, could replicate such beauty

                                       if observed from the right angle.