Would You Like to Be My Butterfly

poetry complicated

Would You Like To Be My Butterfly?


Black and yellow wings
land on my knee.
Unafraid and comfortable

sharing a space in harmony.
Wings beat with my heart
enjoying unity.

My toes claw the dirt
cedar is in the air,
blue skies magnify the butterfly’s stare.

I wonder if the butterfly
Felt pain as I separated its wing.
It did not retaliate

nor did I hesitate
as I picked off pieces of its other wing.
I began on its legs;

the first one simply fell off,
the rest / of the body so fragile / I took
enjoyment in twisting between my fingers.

The grass is still green
without it on my knee.
The sky is still blue.

There you go again,
a fluttering diamond
in your eye.

Would you like to be my butterfly?