When She Sleeps – Bert Meyers
When she sleeps I rise.
The naked light bulb burns
And makes the moths outside
Beat against the screen.
A moth comes out of me.
It flies to the light,
Then staggers back in pain
To rest in me again.
She sleeps and holds her peace,
Though I’m consumed by this.
Having written a poem in which a moth speaks to me of light, this poem had an immediate appeal for me. But here the moth comes out of the man – a man who is awake and consumed.
And writing – by writing consumed.
In other news, I am happy to report that autumn is here in full rain and wind and leaves – leaves, some of which, look like the moth above.
Happy first day of November!
Jose
