Butterfly being
cracked glass implodes/ shards
come undone to moon dust/ wings
cut, tempered against/ light
refracted, oh, to get tipsy/ drunk
on the full moon’s golden/ enamel
shed the density of glass pieces/ of
jars embedded in your seraph/ being,
the horizon undulating to the/ cadence
of your heartbeat, running parallel/ to
your body your wings your stardust/ flesh
all the while breathing for/ exoneration.
2
0
0