Moth

There is a Moth in my room now.

Fluttering against the purple paint,

fumbling to the light.

He has taken up residence

in my desk lamp

that sits on a worn out wooden

nightstand.

Flapping about, moving towards the bulb;

embracing its warmth like I used to, until the snowy static

buried me

in the dark TV that plays

re-runs of existence.

Written Winter 2016

Art Credit: Helene Graham