Sonnet 261. A Butterfly Enters Through an Open Door During a Poetry Reading.
Our sentences are stilted, in she comes
.
An apparition, Red-base Jezebel.
The reading stops. Before the words resume
The room is brought beneath a flutter-spell.
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
And who would wish to? Who would wish to snap
A fragile wing for information, kill
The delicate by torture? Time does that.
And time need only touch those dusted wings;
No wheel is needed. Butterflies will break,
Remembered only when an artist pins
The corpse where art exists for capture’s sake.
Time breaks. Time grounds us. Time can do its worst.
We frame these moments. Set the room for verse!
Andrew Barker
This sonnet's position was rearranged within the collection after recording.
7 фев 2023