Butterfly wings languidly
Beat on a distant jacaranda petal
Pulse quickens
Veins bulge. Blood red
Juices flow. Flight.
Full ripe Persimmon on shaken stem
Trembles and falls into eager hands.
Gorged, sucked,
Moistened lips, liquid delight.
Fingers tap a rhythmic song
Of pleasure across the torso in between.

We are cuckooned, held
Embryonic, awaiting metamorphosis
Transmigrating, as our souls lean
Towards the other’s morning light.
A dusting of wind
The stamen tilts, the admiral
Lifts, Excelsior.