A tiny thought flutters
through my head, safe in its natural state,
before I try to catch it
and sentence it to paper.
When I do, I think the oxygen taints it
(like how blood is a deeper hue
before it is outside of you
and turns a shallower red),
and it starts its metamorphosis
from a butterfly back into a caterpillar,
taking on a different life then what I was hoping.
-2006
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