Butterflies everywhere,
lace tipped ends and deep maroon glass wings.
Butterflies,
everywhere.
A jumble of scrabble letters,
stuck
on the wall of a forgotten room.
A neighbour of wasps and spiders
but butterflies,
they are everywhere.
Stuck in their flight,
hovering over…
over what?
The rosewood cupboards,
the torn maroon silk sari of her marriage
or just the matt-finish dust on the red oxide floor?
But,
butterflies everywhere.
Sunshine passes
through their wings,
the opaque shadow of their black beads bodies
blot the floor.
Butterflies,
they are everywhere.