Mary Grace Mangano

Botanical

Where do they go, I wonder, butterflies
That slept in gray cocoons which flit now
In humid rooms of glass? They seem to tread
The air, a nervous flutter, anxious over
So many things, like Martha when the Bridegroom
Arrived one day. Do they know that they’re not meant
To stay? They do their worrying circularly,
The same thoughts cycling through, the reused fears
That they’ll be stuck here — always on display
But never really living. Life that’s only
Looked at, in little squares or rectangles
Of glass. No predators except for sameness,
Existence as a specimen for show.
Where will we go when every pane is broken?
Returned to a cocoon or bursting, choking,
And newly formed with wings? Or will it be
Like being woken up, eyes fully open?
We’ll see, won’t we? We’ll have to wait and see.

Mary Grace Mangano is a poet, writer, and teacher. Her poetry, essays, and reviews appear in Rust & Moth, Subtropics, Mezzo Cammin, Plough, Comment, and other publications.  She serves as an associate editor at New Verse Review. Mary Grace received a 2025 Individual Artist Finalist award from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts and lives in New Jersey.