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

 

 

 

 

 

weightless

I am waiting for
my thoughts to become still

like the pale pink flesh of roses
Or for them
to transform the purple stain of your bruises into beautiful violets.
If I wait a little longer
Your favorite blanket
Will turn the sky into a blood red sunset.
And the piercing noise of your IV drip
Will become a muted silence
-weightless

And the air between us,
Butterflies.

By J. Hamilton