i remember the first time i saw the birth of a butterfly
i was hunched over in my parents’ backyard
watching wide-eyed as the cocoon unfolded
like perfect origami and bloomed into four mirrored hearts
in an instant having to reimagine its home
from all-encompassing darkness
into infinite air.
i remember the first time i sank into my mother’s arms after eight months apart
her touch holding every sense of temporary-ness
in that same backyard where the moon shone like a stopwatch
and the trees ticked in the wind
telling me that every place plus time equals a memory
and a memory plus time equals vapor
to get carried along in the passing of the wind
sweeping the dust of the road into a cocoon of
hand-sewn bedsheets and weather-stained polaroids
until i must reimagine my home
from four walls
into infinite air.