Chrysalis Beliefs

BY: MAGGIE MAURO

I used to believe lilacs drew in butterflies

and wondered why the purple blossoms hemming my backyard

were the exception.

A girl gorged on myths, I wicked stories from the breath of my father and questioned

why everyone laughed when I spoke with conviction,

syllables anchored to singing baby teeth.

I dressed in violet flowers and cried for crystal wings,

crawled through the latticework of fatherhood facades,

sent prayers to withered dusks.

And from my folded hands sprouted starving chrysalises,

husks in which to tuck my trust,

broken metamorphoses that would never escape my ignorance