Butterflylady by Smith
1-2-15
Eve left bitten apple
seeds on ground. They took
root, grew into new.
~ Weems
The Commonest Blue
And now you break me open like
a pomegranate thrown against a wall.
My heart in imitation of that fruit
has locked itself in unnumbered cells
arranged like with Sebus’ strange
symmetry.
Our shadows tessellate on grasses
illegible as water laden pulp.The grounds
keeper swore he saw something move—
there! By them grave sentry theatres.
We hung round a little while past the
presentation, broadening our cultivation,
blazoning a complex coat of arms behind
our heads, talking excitedly, on Artemis,
our voices grew in tiers like shrubs baring
all of their fatal, chambered fruit in a
single season.
Artemis, born of a quail, you told me
broke a pomegranate to wear for a
serrated crown. I knew from my own
readings she once tamed a bear, and
went round in a chariot pulled by golden
horned deer.
And I thot but did not say to you that I am
like her, for men who saw her naked body
befell tragedy. I am uninterested however
in archery. I am shot at, not the one to shoot.
Also, I have been flanked, times, on
either side by common blue butterflies.
~ Bree