20 April 2009

poem-a-day challenge -- day twenty


In the burning cathedral
of the strip mall parking lot
a butterfly makes an entrance.
Her tiny black feet dance
on the soft mesh stage
with nervous tension.
She shakes and
flutters her wings
like a gypsy's skirt
to the tune of
slammed doors
and starting engines.
As soon as her wings
are no longer wet
she turns her heels on
that one room apartment
she used to call home
and flies above
the sculpted azaleas,
above the plastic mannequins
in front the discount clothing store,
and right over the bright red roof
of the all-you-can-eat buffet.

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