If a butterfly decided
that it wanted to be a caterpillar
that it regretted its metamorphosis
that it would trade its powdery winged symmetry
for a few more hours or days of blind gluttony
arboreal mastication
that it did not want to flutter gracefully
admired desired
but to slowly gelatinously contract 
precariously 
along rough barked branch
to be more slug than swallow
more mundane ...

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the long-legged shadow woman
strode 
then suddenly stopped
and waited
to be dissolved in darkness
where she could peel away 
her black stockings 
to reveal and revel
in her naked invisibility
and dance without limitations
of time or dimension
dream beyond the flat surfaces
which so often held her form
forcing conformity
to their inclination
desire the depth of rounded space
orbits ...

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