We sit in the shadows
of a carnival tent
and you tell me:
one day we will emerge
from a chrysalis,
leave behind the fabric
of these canopy walls,
and take flight.
But even as your hands
cast shadows
on these canopy walls,
you make no reference
to butterflies.
We both know,
even now,
that we are tied
to the shadows,
that we will never assume the form
of anything so beautiful
as a butterfly.
Instead,
we will emerge
as polyphemus moths,
tossing our bodies
with abandon
at the nearest possible light-source,
consuming our own life-force
in the process.
We will not emerge
for any real
extent of time.
Instead,
we will be drawn
without resistance
to the standing lanterns
that guard the edges
of these fairgrounds,
and there
we will bask
in the fluorescent glow
of the ferris wheel,
warming our wings
in the lanterns’ bright light,
and there
we will find ourselves
snuffed out,
undoubtedly
by something greater
and more beautiful
than two moths
hovering before a lantern,
or two children
casting shadow puppets
on the fabric walls
of a carnival tent.
of a carnival tent
and you tell me:
one day we will emerge
from a chrysalis,
leave behind the fabric
of these canopy walls,
and take flight.
But even as your hands
cast shadows
on these canopy walls,
you make no reference
to butterflies.
We both know,
even now,
that we are tied
to the shadows,
that we will never assume the form
of anything so beautiful
as a butterfly.
Instead,
we will emerge
as polyphemus moths,
tossing our bodies
with abandon
at the nearest possible light-source,
consuming our own life-force
in the process.
We will not emerge
for any real
extent of time.
Instead,
we will be drawn
without resistance
to the standing lanterns
that guard the edges
of these fairgrounds,
and there
we will bask
in the fluorescent glow
of the ferris wheel,
warming our wings
in the lanterns’ bright light,
and there
we will find ourselves
snuffed out,
undoubtedly
by something greater
and more beautiful
than two moths
hovering before a lantern,
or two children
casting shadow puppets
on the fabric walls
of a carnival tent.
Emily Uduwana is a poet and short fiction author with recent publications in Miracle Monocle, Eclectica Magazine, and the Owen Wister Review. She is currently based in Southern California, where she studies history as a Ph.D. student at the University of California, Riverside.