A Stupid Butterfly Poem
Clipped between pane
two monarch wings
form wicked angles,
dusted with the world that passed
since they last beat
beat beat beat beat beat beat beat.
Against the brittle, grating mesh.
Against the July-baked glass.
How was this wind-buoyed wisp
black legs useless as dangling threads
against the invisible warden.
Was it an unintended kidnapping,
or did some brute chortle,
watching the aching wings slam against the hot screen?
My disappointment in Humanity hung
thick and heavy as the humidity.
It was then that I noticed the screen
gaping away from the window.
Only inches of freedom to me, but acres to one
who fits in my palm.
– Miss Snarky Pants
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Copyright 2014 by C.C.L. and Miss Snarky Pants. All rights reserved. This is my poem. I wrote it. It is my property. Do not reproduce without my written consent or I will write a stupid poem about you and how you steal stupid poems.