About feeling conflicted about your day job…
Butterfly, my precious soul,
Creative wisp of joy,
I carry you, so delicate,
Deployed, I fall in love once more,
Yet, I’m festooned,
Birthed from rather different ends,
I’m safe for all the casharoo,
I make playing pretend.
My butterfly is locked from sight,
To spread wings, dusk or dawn,
That’s when it might be free once more,
I’m nine to five, I’m whored.
(Photo – Eli Woodbine, Toronto, 2016)