Butterflies
a single tear glances off my shaking eyelash
and flutters to the floor.
i turn my head, eyes distant to the storm,
thoughts scattered like rain through the sky,
not quite together
yet somehow still focused on the clouds that spawned them
pointing at the heavens above, the
heavens forfeited
the last time i crossed your path.

scorched skin crumbles off my neck
and onto the soil below.
there is shade nearby, closer to the ravine
that i will never get to see
as bush and baked earth are
all that lie in our path. i feel alone
yet somehow i walk at your side and cling
to a sanguine dream
most certainly forgotten by yourself,
and like a man destined to pass in solitude
i blindly tear our rose from the earth.
with no method to my madness, i tremble
and our rose soon draws blood, leaving
an everlasting wound.
like scar tissue,
this particular patch of flesh, intrinsically unmendable,
will be remembered for
longer than the butterflies
dancing gracefully by its side.

june 25, 2001