The Hitchhiking Butterfly Poem by gregory collins

I stretch a new sail for a beached boat. I pick a blade of grass
and tie back your hair. I even lower my wings and think of their
footsteps of nothingness as if nothing ever happened sadly.

Now a frenzy of fears creeps into my fever, and i remember your face.
I remember setting fire to the temples that are filling my chest with song.
I remember being moonless and impregnated by the hunger inside my wrist,

or the wrist inside my hunger growing every root of our hair. But where
did you curl up at night lost in play. Where did you put on your clothes
with nothing but memories, where does the sun ricochet and rip heaven

and earth apart. While the side of the highway falls onto your bed,
left wet by hugs, and kisses that will wrong you for the rest of my life;
with kisses that crawl through a hole behind every blade of grass.

Where the sun rolls her tears, and she sits and smokes. She is rubbing
against my cheek, should i blame the breeze? Should a place the Bible
a thousand fathoms deep, and let my soul get more entangled against its wish?