A Big Death

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I admit
It’s exasperating
To find strands of her hair

Loose as the traditional morals
Compromising romance
Falsifying
The Allegory
Of cave expulsion.

She’s off chasing butterflies,
Collecting them
& trapping them
Inside transparent mason jars.

Excited,
She angled the glass
Lopsided
A shimmer emerged
Conceived by sunlight.

She commented,
“Aren’t they beautiful?”

I peered at the butterflies,
Magnified sunlight
Caused their wings to crackle.

They remained pitted
At the bottom of the jar.

I said,
“They’re dying.”

She said,
“So?”

And with their last memories
The butterflies examined their captor,
She
Admired the final seconds
Of something small,
Smiling
As if it had no effect
At all.

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