An April fool,
I dance thru puddles without shoes
hatless, coatless, freezing.
I risk death
standing under a cloudburst, cradling love’s butterfly
held fragilely in my hand.
Rain falls like shards of glass.
the butterfly quivers, succumbs.
I cup both love and death together
what else can I do?
To tighten my fingers into a knot
and run loveless, head bent in the battering rain-
that too is foolishness.
Published in Poems