But it’s not that simple

Stay here, the butterfly said,
and are you sitting comfortably?
but you, you didn't ask a thing.

As I wandered through Wednesday feelings
unabashed by the bruises.
The ones we all carry.

We laugh and we laugh
for all our efforts to mend come undone
in a single evening shimmer of light.

Father's gone again, the tumors growing
and all the world's ablaze.

Illustrated and published by the Oxford University Poetry Society