Sorrowfly



Sometimes grief is

              unfathomable   uncontrollable

              fleetingly transformative

              seemingly unbearable

Daydream-loops of what might have been   if only

Grotesque nightmares flowing throughout the day

A roaring creature of teeth, talons, scales, feathers

wandering aimlessly on once-recognisable streets

Staying in bed all day, curtains drawn, phone off

An ancient bubbling tar-pit of rotten-egg fumes

That ant-covered dead bird on the pavement

A banshee lingering over bloodied laundry

silently   screaming   raging   weeping

Fornicating like a succubus bunny

Unkept hair, rings under eyes

replying I’m fine no I’m fine

until everyone stops asking
And then there’s the Sorrowfly:

        a seven-foot tall

              chain-smoking insomniac

        butterfly with kaleidoscope wings

              who moves in uninvited and

              won’t stop the unsolicited advice