“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

sepia.

In the hover close

to the

flame,

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

moments,

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