Butterfly House
       

       For all we know
       this is the petal, 
       pooling water,
       cleft in the stone
       we would have come to
       on our own;
       this air, palpable
       explains these
       taut and tapered wings.
       And oh, the joy 
       of take and give,
       nectar warming,
       a gentle transit
       that loving brings.
       You had us
       convinced 
       it’s true.
       The rocks, 
       perfect,
       these plants, 
       too,
       and that distant canopy 
       of prismed light -
       an archetype of ethereal blue.  
       A world contrived
       without chance,
       tampered free of incident,
       in short this place, 
       a paradise.
       Our time is quick. 
       We come, we go.
       You win the eyes,
       but not the soul.



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