The Butterfly
The moment slows, I see the butterfly
Clasp wings in a faint orange black flight
Hands still
Fingers point and settle
On the dust of two wings
After the catch, unbuckling
Watching the intelligence
Turn and budge from right to left
I let the butterfly go
The conversation went hours
Finally at last the hand
Met the nods and eyes
The veins grabbed
Again at flight
I caught the Ace of Hearts
The Jack of Diamonds
And lesser cards
I fasted and met each gamble
The stone got colder
Toward morning
I let the butterfly go