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.