Maegon's Butterfly

Screeching tires that nobody hears,
a magnificant scream, holding dead weight, getting tangled in the black tangled vines of trees,
blood spattered pavement,
a smashed exterior, crumpled with ruin,
and anyone and somebody don't see the instant the glass shatters.

Maegon lets out an akward scream sounding like 1000 bubbles in burning lava cascading down a black mountain, maegon hears the scream - her ears are not deaf, and she gurgles like a slain pig, but doesn't notice glass shards sliding through her skin,
such a beautiful result.

The warm spring night swallowing and expanding in stillness and calm.

Any nobody and someone missed out on this circus performance. But I think the angels should have been there selling tickets, and handing out ballons to the children, and people would surely join in the spectacle. Maybe bring some lawn chairs, or a pic nic blanket.

The car smashed a fall caterpillar when it hit the bridges edge, making one external fatality, and Im sure his shiney black caterpillary eyes reflected the silent yellow headlights, and he screamed a little scream and said a prayer about butterflies and singed wings.

And maybe anyone and someone would have been there if the new movie weren't out, or they were crying over spilled milk. Someone was playing a game of Scrabble, busily tallying the points, and scratching their hair line and sipping their beer, or their kool - aid.

Anyone was lighting a candle in a damp room and coughing into dry cracked hands, breathing in and out, preparing for the shivers. Facing the corner wall where someone wrote "Bombs or bread?" Anyone tied a dirty cloth to their arm and stuck lethal euphoria into that tiny amazing path, missing the show 10,000 miles away, where crickets sang softly with joyful praise.

And Maegon's school play (Age 9) is on a dusty shelf somewhere in a pleasant house on a pleasant street, and there was applause that day, and glitter. Maegone doesn't pretend now, she has a new trick of turning stiff and waxy like a candle, twistable like taffy. Her stage makeup is velvety red like a christmas light, and it just oozes from her stomach, and the insides that flipped up and down before her first kiss, are lying on the floor behind her, and some on the back window.

Where is Johnny now?

The shell necklace-
The birthdays cakes-
The school plays-
A new blue prom dress-
Smiling for the camera,
a memory book

The chrome and lights -
the caterpillar -
the trees and singing crickets -

The abscences of anyone and someone, or someone and anyone.

A butterfly lands on her smashed head.

And a sound from somewhere whispers, "Celebrate... celebrate... the end, the end... celebrate this end."