butterfly release party

i don't want to pantomime liberation.
we wore silk gloves to capture
pairs of lips in the meadow.
their talk of revolution & corn preaching.  
whispered to them, "soon. soon."
waiting in line for a chalk bathroom.
i cross my legs. i eat a donut.
i punch my brother in face when he says,
"i can't do it anymore." i say,
"that's not what we say while
our father is watching." it's wild how
sometimes you can open your mouth
& the world can talk through you.
sometimes in beautiful ways & sometimes
in terrifying ones. i have never wanted
to be a seer. instead, i crave the life
of the wedding planner. his clementine heart.
a finger beneath the peel. as we let them go
i wonder what they will say about us
to the hibiscus & the pine tree. i know
for sure the butterflies will not say,
"they were so merciful." instead, they will
talk about television & ritual. 
one human woman weeps as she opens the cage.
she says, "i want that to be me."
she doesn't know what she's asking for.
new promise. new door. same fear.
fly for them. trace the continent & return.
they will capture you & say,
"i am god." they will capture you & let you go
& say, "aren't i so gentle?"
worst of all, they might weep with you.
pluck your violets & say, "we will bear this together."
then, they will leave & you will be
a metaphor & they will be race car drivers
or police men. i tell the butterflies 
"i am sorry" as they should, i do not think
they accept my apologies.