Butterfly Visions

Sometimes that kind of freedom helps with the

anxiety of dreams, when you look in the mirror and

the image before you doesn’t match,

with what’s inside. Today I saw a butterfly outside

my kitchen window, jutting in knife like formation

through the air and I thought about hot cider and the

time my paper bag ripped and I spilled the contents

of my groceries all over the street.

No one helped me pick them up, but from that crosswalk,

I noticed a hand in the air, waving good-bye to another

as she entered a yellow cab. He, didn’t wave back, it

was as if he feared waving good-bye to her. Instead

he returned his hands to his pocket,

the same ones that had caressed her face earlier in

the embrace of a kiss. Instead, he retraced their steps,

as he walked back to his car. She wore a wedding ring,

from another, yet without speaking, she said so much about

the freedom of love,

when voices of angels pause for just one brief

second at an intersection, and wait for you to cross

over once the light has changed. Red curry burns

bright tonight, and butterflies circle in quick inspection,

before flying away.