#one truth

On broken butterfly wing, your crippled mind
fluttered into my schoolroom. Failed. And died.
I couldn’t do a thing to stir its organs
of poor maimed sense to life again.

Only sensation. Reflex twitch
of feelers. And for me sentiment.
Occasional small rapture at your velvet
softness and smoothness. Soon the ants of time
carry you away from chalk and Chaucer
into oblivion.

Farewell, lovely.
The heavy footed State, which made a mess
of your fragility, called this progress,
should pin you down on cardboard behind glass
specimen of the educated class.

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Lepidoptera

இரிச்சர்ட் டி சோய்சா; Richard de Zoysa 1958-1990

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