Lisa Ducharme

July 7, 1982-Arizona

Butterfly With Broken Wings

It must have been the butterfly
With broken wings
That made me suffer
As I watched it try to flutter
It was consumed by the gravity of death
It’s beauty fading in its body
It must have been my yearning
To be freed from my own cage
In which I could relate

It must have been the summer
Hot sidewalk
Flipping the butterfly on its side
I looked away
Afraid my sorrow would rupture the sky
Turning it to water
Drowning out the butterfly
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