Yes, it pierced as an arrow, here,
the pain
in my heart, Cupid
Yes, I glowed—a little pinker,
blood refusing
previous quiescence
Pheromones long on hold
long for release
Twostickssparks
flames
But on the park bench,
the millimeter between us
hung in air
I saw two butterflies, one a Cabbage,
mon petit chou, the other, Yellow Sulfur,
stuck together for perhaps illegal lingering
Unmatched butterflies
shouldn't play with fire.
Neither should friends
By Mary Orovan
Mary Orovan was Features Editor of US Camera Magazine and taught at Polytechnic University. "Millimeter" was previously published in Hidden Oak, Fall/Winter 2007. Her chapbook Feathered Trees is due out later this year (2008) from Poets Wear Prada.
© Copyright Mary Orovan 2007
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