a friend writes of butterflies
wielding chainsaws
husqvarnas tearing at stomach walls

texas massacre
on the backs of loggers
winged insects
hummingbirds bring up the rear

stampeding, but on wings
those butterflies
and their chainsaws
armies of fluttering
confused with softness

you make me hard
as the fall comes
you make me hard
as the love leaves
the trees scream
they all turn red

and those butterflies
wielding those chainsaws

make paper, bleed into pens
punk rock my punctuation

hummingbirds giving blow jobs
in the backseat
of rented saabs

those fucking butterflies
with those fucking chain saws

leather faced, cocaine fueled
monarched yellow and orange
cocoons split

pupas desolated
you are no longer
benign excitement
you are no longer
malignant anxiety
you are those mother fucking

butterflies
wielding those chain saws

running out of gas
breaking your chains
tossed to the side
metal clank
they wield them well
but they cannot

juggle