If the Moth in my Bathroom Dies
A poem
The light flickers as I stare at my reflection.
The cheekbones pulled up, a mock-up of a happy person
A half-way smile that never reaches a destination
And the angry sound of the glass, fizzling.
But the sound is not mine, although it matches my heart.
Anxious wings dance to my own anxiety, both wanting
To burn, both hoping there’s something hidden
Inside the blinding obviousness of the light.
What if another is standing there, watching me struggle.
Attempting to punch my own light bulb; hands on the switch,
The power of ending it all,
Of destroying dreams with the serenity
Of darkness?
I could do the same.
To pull it out of its hopeful misery, to crush the remnants
With kindness.
I gave up on the smile, melting along
The sad valse around the never-setting sun.
My eyes sting because I have never gotten used
To staring at the light for too long.
I feel caught in a sort of mechanism that I cannot leave.
An artificial biome has formed between us,
New life forms crawl from the shower
And fresh flowers drink up the steam.
I’m forcefully reminiscing on my decrepit wings
Pinned on to a board to be observed; this is the harbourer
Of sorrow, the only one of its kind.
Blazed men cluster around to watch and pull and press and hurt.
I squirm and bite the air, I want freedom
So I sting their hands with the taste of death.
I want to liberate another, to end the cycle
Of light, lies, flights.
To release the urgency of feeling anything.
The obligation of being burnt to fool the passersby
That we are alive, figuring out our life’s purposes
To which we should be flying to, fearlessly and full of bruises.
© 2021, Giulia de Gregorio Listo. All Rights Reserved
