To a monarch

What do you do

with what you’ve never done?

The monarch

four hours out of her other self

clings to the twig

from which she hung

then at once

clings no longer.

No longer

what once she was

she no longer

clings

but at once

what she’s never done

she does:

flies

without precedence

without hesitance

once and for all

never again what once she was:

the unflown.

Now flying she becomes

what she’s never done

no longer

than a thought between

what she was

and is no longer

once she’s up

she’s gone

completely

taken by the never done

no longer

able to undo

what once she was

nor what now she does

no longer clinging

she becomes undone

because what she is

and was are one

once and for all

in the sudden

step of flying.