Moths Pass By

Thin winged glimmer scenting the air

Before settling amongst the twilit greenery

Of a yard in escape

Seen through membranous tissue

The world seems a dream

Dotted with the chaotic pluckings of fat-limbed toddlers

Overwhelmed by pubescent longings

For life after the incessant bombing

Of tallowed sheets

Wrenched from their cankerous moorings

The improbability of escape nestling within

Your robin red-breasted kindness

Drenched with the decayed sweetness

Of labored breathing

Channeled into a corona of emptiness

Managing to appear ripened

When in fact it has been dead for years

What more can you do

With dreams that have been thrust

Pulsing and red

Down your throat

By those who have failed to escape

From the fettered wings

Of mismanagement