NaPoWriMo Day #19

 Today's prompt: "What are you haunted by, or what haunts you? Write a poem responding to this question. Then change the word haunt to hunt."

Your Butterfly Hunts Me

When a phrase I learned from you bubbles from my throat,

I feel you there—gossamer wings tickling my vocal cords.

When someone’s laugh stirs memories of yours,

a faint, familiar fluttering fills my ear canal.

It’s a quiet hunt—no one could ask for a gentler ghost—

but persistent. I never see you there, and yet the hairline

prickle of insect legs tickles my skin more than I’d like.

What will it take to end this hunt? Every swat of

my hand meets only air. I could be trapped in a collapsing mine 

or collapsing mind and you would still find a way in. 

 If it’s nectar you want, I have none 

to give. Find another flower to accost.

Or I could sit quietly with your butterfly a moment

and know the love that began

the hunt.