Poetry

Monday, 16 May 2022

Jesus, was never mothballed

 A moth flew into the bath

It buzzed and it fuzzed and it made me

Laugh

except it began doing backstroke between my legs

And so I lifted it up in my palm

Like god's avenging hand

And served justice

to the dying man

But it

Always reached towards the light

And that is why I saved it

So it could

Continue its flight

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