I saw a painted lady,
with opaquely-stockinged wings
her ripe yellow flesh,
'neath black leather,
for birds or bees to sting.
The painted lady,
on grass a sprawl,
does justice as she sings...
The tortured tenderness of her rhapsody
Makes a virgin of an enchantress
But like butterfly,
the eyes do fall
on men and beast to sop....
I stare at you my heart's content
but you cant' run away
The lighted wings deject for secrecy
Hit my heart with camouflage...
sputtering, fluttering to safety
While two legs compel me to run...
With gumdrop lullabies
Juicy mangos, lanky fig tree vines,
the feet that tuck beneath define...
An organism...blood through spine
Yet SHE...for food...will never be mine.
Through the leaves sway silk beauty...
beloved and fine.
*Note: The painted lady is a species of butterfly that is a regular source of food for the hawk. The hawk swoops down, crushes the endoskeleton, and extracts the juicy flesh incrementally.
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