Mothful
I see a fire flower,
Ember of a dragon’s vanquished heart,
Or breath of a dying shooting star,
The twinkle stolen from baby eyes,
Or neon sign to a discotheque,
Perhaps a sodium vapor lamp
Of a lonely codger’s empty porch,
Or an enchantress beckoning,
An alluring Venus flytrap.
I see my brethren clan,
Knights airborne and armorless,
Or an untamed pagan clique
Pirouetting about a burning God,
Or orphaned troops ousted
From a squadron overthrown,
Pariahs shunned of honor and pride,
Or moth swarms oblivious,
Seduced by an electric light
I see myself wander,
Wings, limbs, and head intact,
Or a twin, a mirage suicidal,
Lonely, aimless, on a hungry night,
Or an acrobat impotent,
Denied rostrum for his spectacle
Of valor, folly and conceit blind,
Or a foolish pest in flight,
Beguiled by a shining bloom.
I see corpses heaped,
On a hallowed concrete yard,
Or fallen angels restrained
Ingress to a brightened realm,
Or faux butterflies plain
Destined every dusk to flare,
Bodies to blow in ash storms,
Or fools kindled to death,
Yearning for a phantasm unreal.
© Arati Nair 2022
