The butterflies
In my stomach have cocooned again
It’s not safe for them to be so gentle
Their wings no longer flutter
To the sound of your laughter
Each strand cautiously spun for every day
You offered me silence
They gestated to your absence
And now
I can feel them ripping, choking through
Their silken coffins
Emerging as little parasites
With viscous voices
Making me nauseous
So I have fed them
Raging fire
A single flame for every time
I’ve been abandoned
I have loved them
Into new formation
Refused to let them
Be a poison
Chosen devotion
As their medicine
I have fallen to my knees
At the altar
Of my own sacredness
Fallen asleep to the cadence
Of cicadas
And my heart
Still beating
I’m still breathing
In deep
One prayer after the other
Trying to mother
All the wounds
And conceive
Something sacred
From something broken.