by Max Cavitch
Cocoon
I cocoon
the letters.
the postage.
return to sender written on the front
in his blue-blue hands.
such blue-blue ink.
apparently, I need perspective on the words
claiming I am no longer
his daughter, his blood, his eyes.
my father. the beetle man. the one
driving into the mountains at night with a light trap.
the collection meetings where grown men
trade moths like baseball cards.
my aunt tells me my father is busy
trying to escape his mother, holding a gun
to his first wife’s head.
this is to calm me down.
if I’m sad, it makes sense.
just try not to show it, she says.
he collects beetles. he’s yours. a father.
the teardrops. a daughter. a mother. his.
so on display. so perfect.
just me pinning him on the board mad.
my stupid letters.
blue butterfly wings.
Amanda Adrienne Smith lives in Los Angeles, California and is a graduate of the University of Minnesota. Her work has appeared in Ghost City Review, Rising Phoenix Review, Right Hand Pointing, and Anti-Heroin Chic. You can find her on social media @amandaadrienne.
Max Cavitch is a photographer, writer, and teacher living in Philadelphia. His photographs have appeared in publications including Al-Tiba9 Contemporary Art, The Journal of Wild Culture, phoebe, and Politics/Letters and have been exhibited most recently at the Blank Wall Gallery (Athens), the Chania International Photo Festival (Crete), Art Room Gallery, and the Biennale di Senigallia, Senigallia (Italy). For several years, he has been a contributing photographer for the public-science project, iNaturalist. A number of his photographs will also appear in his new book, Ashes: A History of Thought and Substance, forthcoming from Punctum Books in 2025.