I gave the earth tears,
it gave back flowers.
—Madame Butterfly
Yes, he’s back, but she doesn’t know
he’s not alone, so she orders the blossoms cut.
All? asks her servant,
and Butterfly answers All,
then lines the room with them,
and in a final touch
lets a handful of petals drift to the floor.
We know what’s coming,
have known from the start—
the significant dagger
in the lacquered box.
We adore this stubborn denial,
and when his ship is sighted
we’d like to believe . . .
But the wedding kimono
she puts back on reminds us
he’s never been worthy,
and we endure the long night
with Butterfly, their son we see for the first time
next to her, the servant sleeping near
as light fades on the silk screen
and slowly brightens to morning.
Closer now his cry, her knowing,
the wife with an offer to raise the child.
Since we can do nothing to stop this,
it will happen again and again—
Butterfly pinned in the end
by her own doing, punished
for thinking love was enough.
