What is white but black bursting
over a warm July lake in the eyes of woman
remembering how her mother
hung her sneakers
on the line to dry
in the sun by the laces
The memory is flat until the wings of a swallowtail
turn around the sole and open and close its wings
and then the memory is round and she bends
and touches her fingers to the water
like a butterfly touches its wing tips
to a blue the sky paints with clouds
and watches the black urge white
to life in steady bursts under the ripples
