Moth

Moth

I did not hate you until you left my beloved woollen top

With holes that reflects a galaxy in the sky.

I like your lightness and artistic movements as you flapping across sitting room and bedrooms

You look likes a fairy but not as fair as I wished.


I am like an inspector for the crime scenes

And definitely my only role is to catch you.



There I found you hoovering on my white wall

So obvious, you must be coloured blind

With your wings at your back


It seems you are waiting for your chance



A chance to mate

Or a chance to bite

Or waiting to be killed.

But I could not let you go

Despite you are so vulnerable

 

I just could not.


You left a line of grey powder as I squeezed through your fragile body

Ending your premature death.

I am a murder with powder in my finger

My fairy, you should not come to human place 

It is your fault that leave me such a name.


Alice Wat

July 2020

written under knockdown in London