A Butterfly's Corpse

carcass

my eyes are tired

but the flowers are still blooming

skin grows so fast

as i pass the ravens, i'm happy.

the carcass has been rotting away

it's been

a week

now.

a week the man stood over the flattened black voyager of the stars.

it looks at me.

the children are lining up with their icecream and the people go and get out of the bus

my arm's made of verlaine' verses and they draw spirals in the sky