C.W. Bryan Poet Free verse

Butterflies

I knew a girl
once who had
a clothesline that ran
across her kitchen.
When she would water
her houseplants,
she could never remember
how much
water each one needed
to maintain a healthy
green glow.
She said, “I’d rather them
leak than go
thirsty.”
She placed neatly folded paper
towels beneath
each young plant.
An hour after
each over-watering
she would
pick up the paper
towels, whispering
sweet words of encouragement
to each plant.
She would then stand
on a box of cat litter,
hanging each paper towel
up to dry 
in the yellow, electric light
I loved her once.
The way those towels
hung, limp, shifting
in the breeze 
of drafty doors 
reminded me
of butterflies.

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