Queen Butterfly — Image by kenne
Queen Butterfly
In his frenzy to use
what I am to refuse
from a belly-puff he strews
fine power on my joins
which, filtering inside, coins
a splendor more eye-bugged than the three
deaths I have died had ever given me:
sweller than digestion, flitter than wings
or witting as selves all glitterings
in the coloured perfumes of panoply –
while the liquid rings
he is threading bend
his body at my breeding end.
— Les Murray
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