The Other Butterfly that Stamped

The Other* Butterfly that Stamped

Rohinton Daruwala

A man, looking out a window spies
Two butterflies in a tree,
A male outside, while a female lies

Emerging from her cocoon, still not free.
The male over eager to mate,
Tears at the cocoon impatiently.

The man makes jokes at their fate,
Can't emerge now - my hair's not dry,
Reservations at seven, we'll be late.

He watches the male try after try,
And then sees him fly away
Into a lonely piece of sky.

The man imagines him making his way
In through window onto instrument panel
A green yellow stone in a garden of grey

Floating and landing in a careless channel
Of buttons, activating sequence pins
That launch missiles, whose metallic enamel

Like the teeth of fire-bearded djinns
Open up to swallow a city complete
In a single giant mushroom that spins

Out a gift of radiational heat
That warms the female butterfly
Now emerged and in all conceit

Fluttering impatiently, wondering why
Her mate wandered off and whether
The suddenly darkening sky

Is another case of butterfly weather.


*The entire story (thank the public domain) is available here