Elegy For a Moth
A Darkly-Humored Poem
Elegy For a Moth Unknown Date David C. Roberson
Tiny moth, circling my light, what hour shall you die tonight? As you dance within my sight, I lightly mourn your coming fate. Artificial illumination fucks with your navigation and traps you in exhausting loops of agitated aviation. Your fixed and frantic flitting burns through all your reserves. Your lack of mouth precludes a snack. Your swift death is assured! And let us not forget how you slam into the glass— o'er and o'er repeatedly. Plus, it's hot; you'll burn your ass! Whoops, and now you've spiraled and landed in that web. The owner will attend you. I'll get the light. I'm off to bed.