Darkling beetle, black and shining jewel, What jeweler could have formed you, with what tool? What burr or jig or pliers set your shape, On what suspended rod your armor draped, On which round mold your head and thorax bent, For whose joy were those elytra meant — What burin graved the parallels that run From point of wing to where the head's begun?
Your mandibles that twist, your eyes that globe, Your furred antennae delicate that probe The galleries that run beneath the bark Of dying trees — who made you for the dark?
Pavel Chichikov is a Catholic writer and photographer who lives in Washington, DC. His work has appeared in Crisis, the National Catholic Register, Faith & Family Magazine and other publications. He is also the poetry editor of Catholic Exchange, and a recipient of the National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship in Writing. He is the author of two books of poems. See Pavel's book,Mysteries and Stations.
