The moth has stopped flying.
The moth has landed
permanently by the fallen
soda can, smushed condom
box, mangled pizza crust.
Did it hit a bus?
O, to bear it dignity.
The moth has stripes
like grill marks, front leg
gone, a lilting forewing
torn like paper, and guts.
The moth is resting
not like a car wreck
bushed in a junkyard
but more like spry
enuf to be fed to the world.
Lovely piece of writing loved the way you created the the imagery around moth. Thanks for sharing. According to your convenience please do read some of my poems/ writings would love to know what you think about them 🙂
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Thanks so much, sweetdevil69! I will be glad to check out your blog. Take care
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