“Moth to the Flame” by John Moody

Moth to the Flame

I’m whirling my wings,
of wrinkling papyrus,
seeking moth light.
They fray at the
edges like
rough sex.

Wafting in a spiral
of passion,
I’m powerless.
Your torch-thin
candle kindles
becomes my circled furnace,
branding an orange-stain
on my flight, scorched

In the hover close
to the
I flare.

Circling away
I see the angles all wrong.
My lunar light’s too dim.
I combust on my
lover’s wave-length.
I see her in
wavering light,
sleek tubular
female form;
wings neatly
furled for me
to flit
and fuck
out the larva.
I hover only to
mount her
for the briefest of candela
then I’m gone
prior the spinning pupae.

John is 69 and lives on Scotland’s Clyde Estuary. His work has been published in Dawntreader, Dreich Magazine, Writers Umbrella, The SquawkBack, anthologies published by Pure Slush Books in Australia, Southlight and Coin-Operated Press. He was shortlisted for the EarlyWorks Press poetry competition in 2019 and 2020, and placed third in the Scottish Association of Writers short story competition in 2017. www.johnhmoody.co.uk