Weight

Lighten up, he says.

She unzips her eyes
mouths the weightless silence
of butterflies.

Hand opens to reveal
the peach baby
drowsing in her fist.

All her programs are incomplete
photographs of damage and distortion.

Her backbone is laced to her face
as she turns
there is a spinal column -
skin in stitches.

How each thread pulls
its weight.

These are the messages of butterflies -
not light.