I remember one day chatter ringing in my ears

the hallway’s blue paint tinged with sunlight

and the crowd of teenagers ebbing lazily

I stood, about to empty my dreams to the university officer

when out of the corner of my eye,

like a lepidopterist watches a butterfly being crucified to cardboard

I saw her wings ripped off on the floor beneath us.

And they were gone, there was nothing I could do

like digging up a corpse and breathing in its mouth.

that hair-like growth that her legs, roots of the plant of her body

needed to soak up all the organic brushes of air and matter against it

were gone. cut off mercilessly by some vain razor,

with pink designs and a mother of pearl coloured plastic handle

the executioner was dressed as a friend:

but was the need for social conformity, for a group, for laughter

for the false sense of security brought so often

by similarity.

She stood there,

and I, with my hair

yearning to mourn hers.