The height of summer.
His net under her body, turn and flip:
an Adonis Blue.
She doesn’t fight like some of them;
With steady fingers he squeezes her slender throat.
She seems to wake.
He tries again. His hands freeze.
He stands, glazed.
Sees through her eyes,
through all the eyes he’s ever killed.
She never makes it to the killing jar.
He carries her home in his net.
Doesn’t soften her, or spread her wings,
or pin her to a board.
He kisses her instead.
The butterflies on his walls look on.
He wishes now he could turn them free,
like his Adonis Blue,
near a stream, all fresh and shiny.
Belinda has poems published in various magazines, including Brittle Star, Dream Catcher, ARTEMISpoetry, Obsessed with Pipework and Sarasvati. Some poems have appeared on-line, others in anthologies. She has an MA in Fine and Media Arts and a PhD in Women’s Voices in Contemporary Poetry.