Unappreciated Butterfly

    I think I was on a balcony overlooking the whole thing.

    ——Yusef Komunyakaa "April Fool's Day"

    No soon， no hard loan， no geometric woodwork

    to make you feel at home. No soap， no anonymous¹

    bourbon， no portrait or copy of a portrait painted

    by some writer or star or family member or any

    other-than-artist person. No short drop

    （you were fifteen floors up）， no secret way

    out， no voice of self-hatred （which you are at least

    used to）。 No past tense. Sometimes no tense at all.

    Sometimes not even an all or nothing. Sometimes

    not even a real estate dream， not even a frame，

    not even a framework. A balcony but not a back

    kitchen porch. A woman hanging out her laundry

    but not hanging out. Railroad tracks and motor-

    cycle gang around the corner but not a ticket

    or a destination. Not even the sense of a weird²

    dead end. Not a lemon or a sun. No children.

    No stories about children， no crooked³ arrow.

    No ghost named Leslie or Vallejo. No C. No M.No J.