Red Monarchs

monarchs sleeping just below the shag carpeting
spurts of red emerge occasionally
wings outstretched like two blades
as we sit around on the memories fading

we were shaky; wanting to play it cool
there is nothing you could say to scare me
well there is one thing, you replied as we peered off the fourth story grated floor

just then, the fattest butterfly swished up from behind the baseboard
enamored by the sight; it provoked uninhibited exchanges
the carpet blows up and they all come flushing out

ribbons of red dust stream between us
so we latch on; walk them like a tightrope
no grip; it is effortless

i reach for the knobs; attempt to turn them down, but the flames already tower above us
every brass kettle and pot bubbling, immersed
bursting the cocoons open with our bare hands
you know i am scared of heights; but we dance on the catwalk anyway

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