A Birthmark

the butterfly

affects the heart

I take my imagination

open

to flights

and it flutters

and falls

into the open

venue of ozone

where it might

spark

or

go mussing,

in contrast

like red madder

on cerulean does

when not mixed

in the brush

I make stuff up

I believe it

like a fool

till seen

in the mirror

objective,

where a stranger

finds

no need

for courage---

in obvious state

to say

--Look!

there's brown

smudged

on

your face--

And I know,

know

with pain

everything

is joyfully

missed

as I lift

a timid finger

to the winged

shape

and grin

lightly

to touch

the impermanent

permeance of

our mixed

perceptions