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Beauty Is Not Easy
American Poetry Review, The, May/Jun 2001 by Moss, Stanley
What are they but cattle, these butterflies,
their purple hides torn by barbed wire,
scarred blue, yellow and scarlet.
If they are not marked for slaughter
I cannot tell to whom they belong.
They are just stray cattle.
The sun does not witness,
the clouds do not testify.
Beauty does not need a public defender,
but I would listen to a serious defense
of beauty--tell me what happens to the carcass,
the choice cuts, everything useful:
hide, bones, intestines, fat.
Then talk to me of butterflies.
Copyright World Poetry, Incorporated May/Jun 2001
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved
