The Brute and The Butterfly by Ian Bailey

Caress, the folding arms

Like little wings

Unconscious, in your lap

Love the body

Trace the peaks with your brutish fingers

In solidarity, you relax

For it’s life who’s undone me

Not you the brute, ’tis not you!

You have not clipped my wings

Don't fret

It was life’s fickle hand

That struck me down with such intent

So feel free

To caress my broken jaw

And embrace me, in your brutish arms

And run your hands

Down unkempt lawns, oh feel free

To love me with your left hand

And love yourself with the right

I fly as life allows

As I flew into your net tonight