The Swallowtail

For itself, its own life,
Divided in two forms,
Including a smidgen,

Maybe, of awareness.
For you a brief grace note
Flitting through the morning,

Crossing near where you sit,
Butterfly in sickness.
How to read anything

When death’s toying with you?
World news, travel brochures,
Your living surroundings—

In what scenario
Do you last long enough
To celebrate the end

Of the war, abscond on
Indulgent holiday,
Watch next year’s swallowtails?