The glance I call the swallowtail,
like the luminous butterfly
of Caribbean blue and black.
Poignant as the burst of mystery
in another.
A woman seeing first time
her lover’s face,
stranger, sipping a stranger’s eyes.
The flutter of the swallowtail,
honey of allure and liking.
Instantaneous doubt and passion.
Who are you beloved soul?
her heart asks.
The same for all who have that look.
Man to woman.
Woman to man.
Child to child.
Old to young and young to old.
Something that wakes up something.
The surprise of something beautiful,
not understanding
the flood that floods the eyes,
the recognition of a hunger
to know where that person goes,
where a swallowtail flies.