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Published in Westerly (Volume 55, number 2) in November 2010.

Our lantern invited them in while we played
Rummy. They sounded like cashews dropping
into a bowl as they threw their fragile bodies

against hot glass again and again.
We dealt the cards, played a round, re-dealt;
they thrashed. When we put out the lantern

and switched on our flashlights, dazed moths
flitted to the glowing beams. Our hands
joined them; together we made shadows

on the canvas walls: monsters chomped on moths.
Now we lie up to our chins in sleeping bags,
the lights off. Moths flutter towards the tent flaps

where slivers of moonlight wag fingers
at woolly bodies unable to escape. The soft brush
of wing on fabric mimics our whispers.

This work is the property of the author. All rights reserved.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. 26 November 2011 21:47

    Your writing is incredible. At some point, I would like to pair a photo with your words, if you would kindly consent.

    • 27 November 2011 18:52

      Wow, thanks! That would be cool.

      • 29 November 2011 09:41

        Yippeee!!!! I am just waiting to use that first poem that I fell in love with, but it has to wait until spring or summer – somehow fireflies and snow just don’t go together as well as I would like them too.


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