'the reverse-butterfly'

      * * *

The beginning seasons of my life
were fast, as each new year begins

by February my father asked
what it was I wanted to be when
I grew up

By March, I thought I had an answer.
"A butterfly," I told him.
I think he smiled, but he said Okay.
It was that week before that I found
a fascination with butterflies;
that they can fly wherever they wanted,
the vibrant colors and designs
they had on their wings –
they made people look in awe.

In April, it rained.
Butterflies don't take on water too well,
as I was studying to become,
and heavy hits battered broken wings.
Our flock was me, Mother, sister and brother.

Father was washed out with the rain water.

New flowers bloomed in May
as Mother introduced a new man
into our kingdom,
as I've always felt her to be queen

though never had our house been a monarchy
and she was more of a monarch herself
but she always ruled gently
delicately expressioned

Summer was time to flee
feeling that things
had become cluttered
so I wanted to be on my own

      * * *

Three months became three years
and I've only been to a few places
because my wings
didn't know the sky yet

soon I became September
and my mother, December,
her delicate flowered-fashion
slowly felt slight
white
indentations

Moths, she told me,
come to devour our sight of ground.
The earth became cold
and shivered silver-sparkle
as tiny niggles tugged
bitter-frosting
chugging down colors

– one design I soon came to know
above all the rest

      * * *

Crippled across a white eye
– the earth staring up –
there was a darkened spot
that this cold season allowed

this is where the colors
swirled down
as spiraling crowns
shifted in mid-sky

the gilding wind spat
rain in armor
as an amorous sun, though
it were bedded in grey cotton,
seemed to focus on this black dot

the earth blinked
and our thoughts wrapped around her
as she was lowered

It was at this point I realized
she was going into a cocoon

for the first time

      * * *

I had wondered about the process
of butterfly-making
and felt that I would remain
unresolved in its method

I was unconsumed by a
growing development
that was ever-present.
A feature ran alongside
what was known to me
but pitched deep into
a place of solitude

where wings only flapped
visionary.