I understand you men, I really do.
I understand why all of you can’t
go with me running after butterflies
with nets and empty jars.
I understand why it seems like
you fly through holes in the sky
that close up, and then it’s as if
you were never here.
I understand why you walk
into a room as a mannequin
but actually you are human.
I understand the miscommunication,
the little length of newspaper with words
on it that you hid in the bottom drawer.
I understand I need to save
my questions for a better time.