12/14/12 (la mariposa)

i can feel my heart
sink, then sour in
my abdomen, and
now i feel ill--

the smell of cheap
cigarettes waft from
the corner, flicked
by the bored kids

and while my ribs
cradle me and hush
me, soft mother's
lullaby--these aren't
all mine, not real

where angels crash
into cars, the shadow
from streetlights cast
by night-butterflies
shine over the face
eyes closed, (for now)

the door makes
me jump, unaccu
stomed to the slam
of an echo of
closure.