Tilted

Butterfly floats,

glimmers white 

off sun-ray wings, tilted

catching light,

lifted upwards

by a morning breeze 

that carries delicate

sighs

a longing 

from deep inside the night 

quivers,

water and salt evaporate quick 

wilting,

on the same earth  

that lifts flesh wings 

and dirt 

and longings

to ride on sighs, on wings, in dirt—

anything 

to find your light  

tilted,

in the sun