Woman with Butterflies

"Homage" by Ana Juan
To learn more about Ana, click here.

Today I defaced a New Yorker. It's okay; don't worry. I mean the publication, not a person.

I pulled the cover right off, and stuck it up next to me at my desk.

Yesterday, I wrote all day. Actually, I wrote and rewrote. I revised happily for hours. By the end of the day, I felt like this woman with butterflies. Butterflies were my words and the words flew out, flitted around and piled up on top of each other, all brightly colored.

And just like the photo, the butterfly-words stayed close by so I could catch them. After all, I needed them.

Revising feels like this to me - a way to make a poem flutter and become bright, or maybe - just maybe -  a moment of absolute exhilaration when all the words coalesce and lift the poem into absolute color.