I’m watching it take a long time to die.
Last night, over and over,
it tried to reach the lamp,
scampering up the wall
until its crabbed wings gave out.
But you just didn’t get that it’s over, moth.
I watched it out of boredom,
the banality of it’s death,
there was nothing else worth doing.
The silence of a dying moth
kept me awake.
It’s still at it this morning,
keeps falling on its back,
choking on the last green spasms,
the light’s not even on anymore.
The world’s long gone out for you, buddy.
Outside when the sun comes up,
I’ll go scampering after my own lamps.
Outside on the blazing pavement,
the spasm of life will go on, self-defeating.
None of them will know when to give it up.