The Black Butterfly.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the black butterfly
has again entered my window

circling around the room
of this old house

as i sit idly on a chair
facing the garden

it flutters and then
lands on my hair

and which
as usual i do not really mind

to catch it is not
my cup of tea

any preconceived cruelty to
put it on a frame is out
of the question

i know what it does best:
to mystify a believer of an
incoming tragedy

i put upon my eyes the looks
of numbness
and then a little gaze of
compassion

it leaves without anything
changed.