You had a butterfly
Glued to your ankle.

I imagined it flying
Up your thigh,
Crawling up the
Curl of your hip,

Resting in the arch
Of your ribcage,
Then finding your shoulder
To whisper with fluttering
Into your earlobe.
I felt it too.

It found your nose,
Standing with sucker feet
Over your septum, painting
your eyelashes with wing.

I heard my tongue fold
to the roof of my mouth.