A BUTTERFLY WITH HELICOPTER WINGS
She landed in my life in a veiled reverie
with the blood of betrayal etched in her bones.
It was more than she could bare.
A casualty of a failed romance,
she hovered overhead in suspended animation.
She couldn’t say yes, and couldn’t say go.
I absorbed her hurt like a poultice
soaking up an accidental spill.
I stemmed the flow of blood
and nursed a festering wound
with the warm milk of adoration.
I delivered in rain sleet and snow,
with an embrace of infinite kisses
that will last beyond the realm of time.
There was no precipice too high
to climb, no sea too dank and dark
to explore, to show how much I cared.
Hibiscus nectar seeped out of her skin.
Her flame of aliveness will keep dancing
like a Dervish until our galaxy implodes.
Her touch spoke of a love
that eluded the quagmire
of her mind.
I loved her more than she will ever know.
I regret not having been more fun.
Milton P. Ehrlich, Ph.D is an 85 year-old psychologist. A Korean War veteran, he has published numerous poems in periodicals such as “Bombay Review,” “Descant,” “Wisconsin Review,” “Rutherford Red Wheelbarrow,” “Toronto Quarterly Review,” “Off The Coast,” “Christian Science Monitor,” “Huffington Post,” and the “New York Times.”