Two Deaths

The dead moth’s eyes see only silver mist.
Her body is a tiny paper heart in my hand,
A valentine in white fur and sickly green silk.
She curls on the dashboard of my Honda,
The one real thing I have touched today.
Motor oil singed one spot.
Her arms bend to grasp but nothing fills
Her stiff embrace. I have no glass casket
Worthy of these cold wings, and she stays
Overnight in the car.

Where the bedroom wall meets the ceiling a fly flails wildly.
Sometimes in silence, more often with the buzz I only hear
When the lights are off.
I do not see the spider who will stun him,
The siren who will suck his black life out into thin air.
I hope she is nearby, that this inelegant,
Crude death is not for a host long-gone,
But the sheer nests near the ceiling have been
Empty for some time, their contents fading
All for nothing.

photograph by flickr user pinkpoppy


Anonymous said...

I had a yellow jacket or wasp or something of that nature die in my car once. It was in the back window and I left it there for over a year because I liked how it looked. I also found it interesting to watch it as it began to decay over time.


Kate Horowitz said...

That moth is still sitting on the dashboard of my car. Sometimes (and you can't tell anyone this) I talk to her lifeless body. My commute is sad and lonely.

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