banana bread

yellow-black caterpillar is overripe
banana. its little legs must feel like it
has walked lifetimes through wet,

humid air in sweet tropical dreams.
though, maybe it doesn’t dream,
but dream walk on a banana tree,

shedding its defenses for threads of
sticky fluid, until the night caresses
its imagination. when the new morning

comes, it reshapes its reality, new color
patterns, new flights, but a bit older like
some ancient fire ritual with dance and song.

understanding mortality means peeling
aged skin for new forms the way
bananas transform into bread.