Butterfly people are blurred
behind subway windows,
catastrophe in a candied apple...beat.
The hum of motors eases her mind into disturbia,
blinded by the passing lights of Paris
as she moves along this stream of electric wires...beat.
Cities, trampled under herds of silenced mammals;
plead with the skies above. "Entangle their feet with
whisps of cloud, let them fall and scar upon concrete...beat.
As she laughs alone among the weeping,
joy slips out at the next stop to whisper
in the ears of the butterfly people.
3 days ago