WEEK 9: (poem) - Where Have All the Butterflies Gone?

Wings flutter up and down
weaving intricate threads together.
a pattern resurrects in the abdomen,
wind-blown butterflies spin off-
course. higher into the never-ending
blue. white splotches shift in
the background. fall into the sky's
arms.

and back again. thread together
with needle and thread. the
butterfly's stitched wing.
a breath of air caught in its side
then out for the last time, a bent
torso.

no patterns start of nothing.
wave goodbye with a broken, tortured
wing fallen through the ground of
sacred heights. unravel the threads
in chest. undo the broken river
bleeding dry beneath a stale corpse.
no flying here. no up. only down,
down, down until your breath finds
you again, stitches you together
to breathe into the sky's dry
mouth.