Moth

The burning eye

looking and laughing at

the inhabitant of the doghouse

will hopefully wet the magnifying glass.

The fly by nights with

the emotional capability

of moth balls

dare to infiltrate

the hardened sand pains

of my fortress.

And like one of

Abraham’s childen

I have stayed

in their snare

for sunsets on ages and ages

and like a newly emerged

wizard with electronic eye,

will lick the air and find

the prize of their desire.

The watery eye

or downturned puckers

for me be not

but for their own lying pride

and loss of fun-

ds–vile vipers they are.

(With thanks extended to The Ian on Unsplash for the image used)