My body, all I borrowed from the earth..., by Robert Lowell My body, all I borrowed from the earth, /
I do not want it to return here — /
some flour-white butterfly. /
My body, scratched and chewed with t...
Not as the floury moth returns..., by Alistair Noon Not as the floury moth returns, /
whenever the term of my ashes ends /
I want my conscious body to turn /
into a road and the land’s extent, /
...