Morning Cremation
Morning Cremation #2
Morning Cremation
Soul treading water
A butterfly pinned
Cruel trophy
Not even under glass, discarded
Exposed to what the sky can give
Powdered wings, dusting lost
Pulled off in a gust, dropped
In the tall grass of complex dances
Caught, I swing and sway, mute to questions
Even I had my limit, now all gone but
My quiet rage
An ember set to ignite, the wind
Picks up a stilled wing, I catch
a thermal, a tiny fireball
I'll look pretty as I tumble by though.
Copyright © Michele Rossi | Year Posted 2013
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