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Catching Myself<\/p>\n
By<\/p>\n
Jennifer Angelina Petro<\/p>\n
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Lately I have been thinking<\/p>\n
When I was young I would<\/p>\n
Buy butterfly nets, or make them,<\/p>\n
And then go chasing after those delicate,<\/p>\n
Powder-winged beings.<\/p>\n
I swooped my net down,<\/p>\n
Across, zig zag\u2014anything to<\/p>\n
Snatch a butterfly in midflight,<\/p>\n
And when I captured one,<\/p>\n
As gently as I could, I removed it<\/p>\n
From the net, held it cupped in my hands,<\/p>\n
Felt it tickling my palms<\/p>\n
With fear-filled wings,<\/p>\n
Examined its face, legs, and abdomen\u2014<\/p>\n
Resisting the traumatized impulse<\/p>\n
To dog-ear its wings,<\/p>\n
And then I would let it go<\/p>\n
Like I was offering it to the world,<\/p>\n
Like I was doing something kind,<\/p>\n
Like I had every right to disturb<\/p>\n
The life and heartbeat of these most<\/p>\n
Cosmological beings, and then,<\/p>\n
I would look at my hands<\/p>\n
And see stains of pigment<\/p>\n
Smudged on my palms—<\/p>\n
It made me feel guilty,<\/p>\n
It made me feel cruel,<\/p>\n
And it made me feel like,<\/p>\n
Just once, I had some form<\/p>\n
Of beauty glittering inside me<\/p>\n
as I fluttered into the waiting, stormy sky.<\/p>\n
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