the spring of transition

she spent
thirty years silk-wrapped,
curled cautiously
in the chrysalis.

of sunbaked wings,
lace-lined with black piping,
curled at elegant ends.

emerging carefully,
she glides onto the street
to snarled lips
and double takes.
tight jaws,
clenched fists, hate.

her desire to live among them
rejected, refused—threats of
violence for cultural taboo.

they see a moth.

an approximation
of nature’s beauty
chew holes
in their social fabric.

(not silk, of course.
it’s probably a poly blend.)