No butterflies for Juliet
There
are no butterflies to be found
in
my peripheral vision
where
once my eyesight was flooded with wings
and
such delicate scales you would marvel the wind
didn’t
strip them to skeletons
finest
of strings
now
all is swift and the open mouthed town
such
concentration of life
but
of the wrong kind
huffing
diesel and petrol with chromatic wide grin
the
town takes the country and sucks it all in
it
is all I can do to take in the sea air
without
monstrous seagulls
tearing
at the ears
and
soaring past holiday-makers stealing their chips
the
child with an ice-cream and less than strong grip
soon
in tears as his ice-cream
collides
with the road
pairs
of embattled parents more than ready for home
pulling
ladybirds out of their permanent hair
expecting
to find butterflies
but
finding none there
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