Apollo Butterfly

Your whiteness makes you
ephemeral, and that’s how I like you
in my poetry,

powdery to touch, a grasp
away
from the paper’s edge.

You could be a moth,
but I see your
eye marks:

black on the forewing,
red on the hind,
closing in

like hands in prayer,
pretending not to see,
pretending everything is fine.

But it’s not.
And when the grassy reed
bends in the wind

and your shadow goes weak at the knees,
I’ll still be there
pencilling you in.

Kim Waters is a teacher and poet. She has had her writing published in Island, The Australian and Hecate. She is currently completing a Diploma of Visual Art at LaTrobe College of Art and preparing for an eighth grade AMEB piano exam.