Orange

to the butterfly who flew in my mouth while i slept:

come his wings,

every color, pattern, vein blew into my cheeks,

i still breathe his smell out my nose,

into the air, for everyone to take.

in texas, our pollen blankets the heat during spring.

over the sun, the pollen will take you,

turn your throat dry;

your lips chapped;

your mouth forced open to take the monarchs.

they always migrate to the warmest places.

so come his antennae.

he knows,

he can see where i have built my walls in my throat,

tries to push through them.

i stay shut,

he feels that i stay shut.

come his thorax.

the moisture makes his heart heavy,

and wet.

i don’t like wet things,

they slide down my gullet too easily.

and the moisture softens, his knees weak on entrance.

butterflies cannot walk,

thus he cannot move;

thus i cannot move;

he shouldn’t move;

so i cannot move;

and i am still not moving;

and i have not been moving;

i promise i won’t move.

i won’t move.

come his proboscis:

and i felt him break it open, he wanted to feel what it’s like to fly down my body

took the brick off the wall and

swallowed it.

and butterfly is an illusion.

pretending it isn’t, isn’t it easier

to see my throat is empty

my body is empty

adoration is empty

i hate him

he tried to fill me.

come his wings

i snapped his color

took every vein out and gulped as deep as i could

come his antennae

i severed it in between my teeth

come his thorax

i forced it adjacent to my throat

come his proboscis

detached from his face

drooped

in the ground

in the dirt

im the dirt

I'm where I belong.

so come the spit

come to the table,

come every single particle and vein of him

come dinner,

come eating butterflies

come feeding him to your loved ones

and not feeling anything.

come cocoon in my throat

come my feet colder than cold

come sprouting them into flowers

come the pollen expanding out my stomach

come not eating anything except butterflies

come not eating anything except

come not eating anything

come not eating.

I became shape-shifter.

I took my hat out of the toy box,

put it on,

and became something else.

it’s only so long before you can’t say butterfly anymore, you have to start saying hunger.

I think i’m waiting for that day.

metamorphosis: skinwalker: swallow me alive

tear down the garden wall

brick by brick:

gift it to the flowers.

who have I turned a cheek.

forbidden pollen:

fall to their tongues.

I sit at the dinner table,

unannounced on who I was.

they did not know me,

only played pretend.

be butterfly,

be food for me to swallow,

let it come out,

and take me anyway.