• Butterfly Tattoos

    The kisses linger:
    tiny, butterfly-shaped imprints
    burned into my skin,
    the backs of my eyes.
    Lavender-winged itches
    I can't scratch.
    Don't want to blink
    for fear they will fade:
    my butterfly tattoos.

    Your love is nectar
    from cold urban flowers.
    I drink it as the concrete
    tall buildings desperately drink
    the last rays of the day
    before falling into night.

    A monarch butterfly floats among
    traffic.
    The lure of small, city gardens
    has become a dangerous gauntlet run.
    Fly home, little chariot of fire.
    Rest your wings
    on milkweed
    in country fields.