. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

watching butterflies die


out of the pupa it spilt
folded wings
crinkled spots
legs that can't quite hold it up
droplets of wing-expanding fluid
on floorboard
near the ripped cocoon
where he was warm
like a baby from a womb
it seeks to grasp at life;
it finds me instead
and walks the vertical of my welcoming bones
looking for warmth
on my breast finding home
for a while
in the crook of my neck
he sleeps now


platoons of sharp-shooters are deployed
to play war games in my heart:
bombs go off as I dance about them
watching friendly-fire shoot butterflies
that only seeked to find home here
those sinless, beautiful victims
that breathed life
into vacant chambers.
there is nothing to understand
while you watch love
leak at the seams this way
the loon's call in the midday heat
impossible for them or for me to grasp
as I plead, 'I don't want
to watch
butterflies die'.


Becky~ said...

I liked this,very nice.

stuart said...

God's touch upon your heart
God's breath upon your soul
God's spirit within your eyes.

Anthony Duce said...

An amazing piece. I had to read it a few times.Then it clicked.

Marjolaine Hébert said...

thank you ..
: )

JP said...

Heartfelt Marjo, well thought, well written.