cutting and cold

cutting and cold
the description
she nailed to my words

and reading hers
a dull rusty saw
began shredding my gut
bile ridden tears
splattering, splotting, sizzling, pustulizing
skin, brain, lungs, liver
but most of all my heart

mytral valve regurgitating
acidic currents corroding and coursing
through arteries and veins
back flows back eddies
stagnating emotions breeding
my own incomprehensible compulsion
of what i did

for their was a time
when i breathed her breath
and thought her thoughts
and my heart
interlaced rhythms with hers

and in a last now
more so than when
i sent my cutting and cold words
to her to shock, to anger, to pay attention
to me as i reached for her

mercury refusing my fingers’ grasp

i didn’t think i wanted much
just to know that what
was close between us
still was
and not just an illusion
suckling on my milkless breast

cutting and cold
she described my words

and they were
cutting and cold only hot
sharpened flint and emotion
humming through the air
targeting that which she created
in part for me

for where better to strike
my fear than what i love
for she will understand

except the hurt
too deep, too personal, too intimate

oh god in me forgive me
oh god in her forgive me
the frightened mistake
that hurt her

but she was adamant
she was curt and finite

for my assault on
the tenderest of her
ripped and tore
what she had given me
of herself

(epilogue)

later in the day
a butterfly on the sidewalk
wings slowly moving
caressing nearby death

i thought
a butterfly should
not die
on concrete

stooping
i offered my finger
as a perch to safety
or at least
to higher ground

the butterfly
grasped my finger

speaking to this high desert spirit
dusted in black and gray and pearl
i walked to a nearby tree
shielding with my other hand
the butterfly from the wind

on a small branch four feet
or so off the ground
i tried to set it

but the butterfly
clung to my finger
until i used the tiniest
of twigs to move
the butterfly onto the tree

once settled
the butterfly’s wings slowly
opened and closed

and i cried
for my words
for my deeds
for the awful wonderment
of it all

in that instant
a line and a connection and a heartbeat
moved through the moment and the butterfly
and to her

and i shall miss her
for the rest of my days