stuck between panes of glass
  cared for, no smudges,
  only a small gathering of dust

the light comes in behind me all day
  for you, soft rays, magnified past
  my wings that flutter in the window

and you, you've lived through so much
  have you been here? what were your wings like?
  dull brown, like mine?

there is a little hole in the screen
  and i am not the first to enter
  but maybe i will be the last to leave

i am not afraid, but i am hungry.
  you will tarry with your meal.
  you joke about finishing last. it's funny.

and in the eve, when darkness takes my back
  when there is nothing to see but you
  and the book you're reading

you smile on the couch
  you look over, you see me,
  you smile then too

my little antennae, my feeble arms
  cannot press into you with the weight
  of relief, or release, or the reality i would give you

if only i could flitter a little harder
if only i could crawl beneath that second frame
if only i were a little stronger, i would press you tight,
  my flame