~

flavour of the moth ( htom eht fo ruovalf )

…

 

a punch in the balls

of sun-shunning cousins

lepidoptera emperors

elephantine hawks

sweet silken metaphors

& eaters of socks

them that hang with rabid cats

flaps between the bats

 

rising up with phosphorous

in the gloaming’s ghost

flutters of a sputtering

as an owlet howls

wing a spread – like butterflies

in the sweats of night

 

taste the licks of light again

– my tongue

is a flame

…