A Benny Andersen poem about preservation

The poetics of preservation

As a boy I kept caterpillars

was very fond of them

preserved one during the occupation

picked from the hedge a caterpillar

a fine fat multicoloured privet hawkmoth caterpillar

with a black crooked horn behind

put it in a jam jar

with a supply of privet leaves

with a lid of perforated greaseproof paper

but instead of munching away

it became motionless

the fine colours

the wriggling fatness

became wrapped up and hidden

in a lifeless colourless pupa.

I placed the glass

at the back of the larder

autumn passed

winter passed

it was forgotten

there were other things to think about

Hitler and Rommel

with Eisenhower and Montgomery

spring drew nearer

one spring day mother called out

A mouse a mouse there’s

a mouse in the larder

you must get rid of it right away

A flapping sound from the bottom of the cupboard

a wing-span larger than the jam jar

a beauty that demanded the whole universe

full of paternal pride I let out

my young privet hawkmoth into the light

just wait

soon you will get to see both the dark

and all the stars you have deserved

Now

old and bereft of parents

I often resort to the same method

preserve fat wingless poems

in dark drawers for months

miss my mother

deputise for her

listen expectantly terror-stricken

to the foreboding flapping from the dark of oblivion

that announces liberation is near

that the poem is now on the wing

Thanks for the m(o)use

Mother.