Ledidoptera

I see the moths I used to chase

as a child. Little beige triangles

holding themselves still between the blades

of grass. I have never been afraid

of moths. I love their soft hands

on my skin, their fluttering

wings in the hollow behind my ear. The fragility

of a butterfly is terrifying. I could not touch

the ethereal like that. But I can catch moths

I cupped them against the grass and waited

until they were still. When I pulled my hands open,

they would sit on my palm,

pumping their wings meditatively. 

I was sure the moths knew much more

than I did, enough to see through

my blustering humanity. They would sit and say

see? Since you have bothered me, look well.