Metamorphosis

i remember the first time i saw the birth of a butterfly

i was hunched over in my parents’ backyard

watching wide-eyed as the cocoon unfolded

like perfect origami and bloomed into four mirrored hearts

in an instant having to reimagine its home

from all encompassing darkness 

into infinite air.

i remember the first time i sank into my mother’s arms after eight months apart

her touch holding every sense of temporary-ness

in that same backyard where the moon shone like a stopwatch

and the trees ticked in the wind

telling me that every place plus time equals a memory

and a memory plus time equals vapor

to get carried along in the passing of the wind

sweeping the dust of the road into a cocoon of

hand-sewn bedsheets and weather-stained polaroids

until i must reimagine my home from four walls

into infinite air.