Butterfly

Butterfly

By Erin L George

 

He hangs on the portal of lunch time

where candy-eyed girls in violet tunics shall dance

for he, who climbs their limbs

one at a time

to sip, not gulp,

desire tucked behind lashes

batting counterfeit pretensions

swaying to and fro on summer’s whimsy wink

she bows and spins

to fetch his coffee

sweet nectar blessed of Mother’s kiss

he’d crave no more to bleed such truths -

dancing girls kiss back.