Friday, July 30, 2010

Funeral for a Butterfly

Funeral for a butterfly
a poem

Funeral For A Butterfly


She lay on the hard sidewalk
Her yellow spotted wings were
The size of a grown man’s palm.
One wing was zig-zag- frayed.
She lay still, unmoving, dead;
The hot air waving her wing
In a charade of living.
She once flew in spring sunlight,
In the dance of butterflies
Flitting through green floral hues.
Now she is still and soulless
On the hard concrete pathway
Beside red square brick pillars.
Jackhammers sing her dirge song,
An unforgiving staccato,
As they break up dry sidewalk.
Backhoes rip through the re-bar
And pull it from the ground.
The street rubble loudly crash
Into the grey steal bed
Of a diesel dump truck Hurst,
To carry her to a grave
Thirty feet below the ground
At a building site landfill.
I watched her internment-
Asking what other treasures
They buried beneath my feet
Under the new downtown mall.




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(c) Adron