i didn't dive head
first into the wave only
to drown on the shore
i'm stepping on glass
that's been broken, given up
form and clear function
wings closed
you'd think that after
enough monsoons, butterflies
would learn to stay still
wings opened
and after enough
monsoons, the butterfly learned
to stay very still
what it takes to fly,
cocoon shed, patience we wed
watch painted wings dry
i saw a leaf fall
dry flame from the treetop
daytime meteor
a blanket pulled
stitches of rain thread through trees
a bolt of lightning
small citrus peeled
white lattice lace held
together, slices
branches bare, birds
smiling up at the rain
wet crows feet
glove and coat divorce
leaving thin wrists exposed, cold
soft blank of skin
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