- - - - - - - i dreamt one night that you had wings…..

part ii: butterfly-child

and you wear your scars quite beautifully like/ a faded butterfly - - - - - flitting between the softest of flowers / you trail their scent after you so that these eves-dropping walls echo back your cinnamon voice a thousand times/ and oh! when you touch my hand so fragilely with that brittle paper skin i feel like the onset of summertime once again/ caught in the midst of a languid afternoon/ so that where ever i turn is lit up like downtown in the village and/ your trembling hands remind me of children’s choirs drifting out into the star cloaked night/ compleating it like the absence of longed for snow.