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Butterfly
 
As Sally drinks, she slips further
and further out of the conversation.
 
A chrysalis of party clothes
propped back on the sofa.
 
Compassion and love for the world
are wings, bound tight inside her.
 
Sitting forward, she folds, eyes full
and tells: how the world is so, so terrible;
 
but people -  so, so wonderful.
Her range is huge: wars of race and religion;
 
how she would choose the other side;
because, she too is guilty:
 
of a terrible bloody history.
Her gestures straining to hug it all.
 
As the drink weighs, Sally sinks back
comfortable in the chair; eyes closed
 
snuggling into her cocoon
she dreams of release:
 
a butterfly unfolding for the first time,
showing her wings to the world.
 

 

 

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