white moth

I saw it

with its broken wing

caught in a spider’s web.

The lantern lit

its pale white wings,

thin like rice paper

and still like

a heart that no longer beats.

I sat on the splintered edge of a wooden step

listening to nothing,

tasting darkness

and feeling

the silk threads weave an imaginary web around me.

Shrouded

and cocooned in this light in the middle of darkness

the past came to greet me

and for a brief moment

all that was broken

was contained

in this laced symmetry.

By J. Hamilton