moth + Friends

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moth + Friends

I too find Jennifer Anniston pretty, which 
is why I noticed when she grew a mole 
between laugh tracks—
                                   perhaps you thought that it’s 
the one where Rachel sees a dermatol-
ogist, or maybe nail-clip feathered wings 
just need their rest. Regardless, you’re not the first
to make this Columbian journey, navigating 
in the night and washing up on shores
unknown. 
  Science calls it phototaxis,
transverse orientation, and other names
that intellectualize your mysterious 
affinity for late-night Georgia games, 
the chipping cab light in my Silverado,
the LED that pops like candy rocks 
and bags your pebble corpses down below 
its sticky shine. 
But nobody fully knows 
what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s simpler than 
we like to make our things—(pink, brown, and white
spiraled and labeled Neapolitan
as if it’s something new)—  
            
You see a light, 
you cling to it. 
       If that's the case,
I am a moth.  





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