Now I will tell you
how the worms
I kept in an empty soap carton
and fed white mulberry leaves,
changed themselves without my help,
curling into scoops of color,
and how later I watched them
transform into butterflies,
and all this just because it was May
and because insects possess a bit of magic.

Then I’ll tell you
how Eloisa Muro,
fourth mistress of Cervantes,
was the author of Don Quixote.

For though I’m small, I know many things,
and my body is an endless eye
through which, unfortunately, I see everything.