___________________________________________

She had
butterflies’ wings

woven
into her hair—

this is the
barrette of the future.

She had become
calx

in my hands,
my patient legs
still aching
to run
to & fro,
back to her

arms, back
to her arms
again &
again,
for a desperate
resolution

had entered
my mind,
endorned

by all
that cannot
be undone.