Butterfly being

cracked glass implodes/ shards

come undone to moon dust/ wings

cut, tempered against/ light

refracted, oh, to get tipsy/ drunk

on the full moon’s golden/ enamel

shed the density of glass pieces/ of

jars embedded in your seraph/ being,

the horizon undulating to the/ cadence

of your heartbeat, running parallel/ to

your body your wings your stardust/ flesh

all the while breathing for/ exoneration.