Discussion in 'Poetry and Lyrics Forum' started by abhimanjrekar, Oct 21, 2005.

  1. abhimanjrekar

    abhimanjrekar ----> Zhol-Man<----

    Monarchs Landing and Flying

    If they have come for the butterflies then
    bless their breaking hearts, but the young pair is
    looking nowhere except each other's eyes.
    He seems like he could carry them both
    over the street on great wings of grief tucked
    under his coat, while all around them float,
    like wisps of ash or the delicate
    prism sunlight flashing off the city glass,
    the orange-yellow-black-wing-flecked monarchs.
    Migrant, they're more than two dozen today,
    more long-lived than the species who keep
    to the localized gardens — they're barely
    a gram apiece, landing, holding still for
    the common milkweed that feeds their larvae,
    or balanced on bridges of plume grass stalks
    and bottlebrush, wings fanning, closing, calmed
    by the long searchlight stems of hollyhock.
    If they have come for the butterflies then
    why is she weeping when he lifts her chin?
    He looks like he's holding his breath back —
    or is he trying to shed tears, too? Are
    any left? He's got his other hand
    raised, waving, and almost before it stops
    the taxi's doors flare on both sides open.
    Nothing's stirring in the garden, not us,
    not the thinnest breeze among the flowers,
    yet by the time we look again they've flown.

    {{{ I HAVE NOT WRITTEN THIS :nw: }}}

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