.
Butterfly collectors
Wait with nets and bated breath,
To catch and keep the contents of my stomach.
I couldn’t tell you how they got there,
But their wings are cracking thunder,
China must be suffering by now.
.
And as you move in they move quicker,
Beating faster, clapping louder,
Until suddenly your mouth moves onto mine.
And like magic the gymnasts inside me fall silent,
And I cling to your lips
For dear life.
.
