the lepidopterist By Brooklynn Singleton
my brown wings spread battered and torn pinned under the metal rods missing three legs i am face to face with him the lepidopterist in a way, i am a piece of him an extension of him and his beliefs of how butterflies should look and act and speak i do not meet his expectations we both know this but he still examines and critiques after two decades, i am unchangeable then he brings another one another one! am i not enough for him? she is identical to me the same chocolate wings the same black fur we do not share the same tears and aches she is younger she has not been in the world long he handles her delicately careful as to not harm her he sets her beside me unpinned unharmed he gently strokes her wing with his pinky
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