Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Remember for Her

"Like invisible
Pallbearers," moths have carried
Off carpets of memories,

Like a winged bucket brigade
Of muted colors and dust.
This is true for all of us,

Children, grown-ups, elderly.
We don’t see them lay their eggs.
We rarely note their passing.
Without words, we’d not have them.

My toddler daughter caught moths
Half-bare, gold-skinned summer nights,
Caught them straight out of the air.
Victories these words

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