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I love you butterly, butterly woman,
who melts in my mouth.
My margarine life is over, thanks to you.
I’ve never been betterly, butterly one.
Such a spread you are, the best spread,
there before me! I’m toast.
Seeing your hair fan out butterly on a pillow
fattens my feelings.
I want you butterly,
that badly, by the stick,
I want you in a dish,
crystal, from Waterford.
And I love you at room temperature,
a little soft, perfectly responsive
to the slightest touch.
What price butterly?
Only fools ask.
That the heart can pay and pay
and the butterly still be free
is a butterly mystery.
So let’s be butterly together,
the basic ingredient
for a sauce extraordinaire.
We’ll pour ourselves everywhere
Churning and churning,
not bitterly, no,
but butterly shall we go.
"Butterly" first appeared in Free Lunch. Copyright 2001. Used here with permission of author.
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Philip Dacey is the author of ten full-length books of poems and numerous awards, including his new Vertebrae Rosaries: 50 Sonnets (Red Dragonfly Press, 2009). Now retired from teaching at Minnesota State University, Dacey is a native of St. Louis and a former Peace Corps volunteer who now lives in New York. He has read his poems in more than half the states of the U.S. and his work has inspired numerous musical, theatrical, and multimedia works. One of his undertakings involved performing with his two sons, who provided musical accompaniment while Dacey read his poetry. In another performance, this multi-talented poet portrayed Walt Whitman. Dacey's work manages to be witty, poignant, and chiding all at the same time; read more at www.philipdacey.com.
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