Lepidoptera - Bedhead

The shades are open

What moonlight there is

Shines like the skin of a ghost on the wall

The air from the fan

Blows so that

The blue on the map on the wall waves

A moth with its dirty blownglass wings

Flapping in slow motion

The size of kites

Flies through the room

Over the moonlit ocean

Toward the unlit lightbulb on the ceiling

Its eyes

Wet with ink

Scan the room like a lighthouse smile

Its tongue

As large as mine

Runs against the sides of its mouth

I’m in my bed

I can feel my legs

My feet

My hands

But I can’t move or speak

My guardian angel has finally arrived