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Moth

Four small triangles

silhouetted against the outside of

my window

The light is on in the hallway

they think it is a moon

they press

their naked pale undersides

against the cold glass

their soft bellies

exposed, they wait

as though the strength of their desire

could bring them to the light

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About writehandedgirl

Sarah is a writer who is passionate about social justice, feminism, politics, and cats. She is a columnist and poet and currently lives in Nelson. You can follow Sarah on Twitter (@_writehanded_) or read more of her writing at writehanded.org

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