Pierced

In that moment she was sin
that appeared fallen
due to her juxtaposition.
As a child she wanted
to wear glasses –
then took mine off.
“I don’t want to scratch them”
Morgana the butterfly
that flapped her wings and the ground
perched in that brief moment
on top of me.
The dividers rose like
a confessional.
Perhaps I reminded her of herself.
Two thin silver bands
hung like bull rings
but felt like smoke circles
against my face.
She who named herself
after books she read
in the hopes of becoming myopic.
It was all too much
for me. So I laughed.
We laughed.
She had moved here from California
for her mother.
So when she is healed, I will never see her again.

Read Full Post »