Of White Moths And Drunkards… Poem by John Tansey

Of White Moths and Drunkards…

Fearing the night, linen white moths
Flying into the torch of lit street lamps,
Converge from each vantage point,
Out of the vectored dark.
Flirting, flitting about and dancing
Around the common ground of its warmth.

Some, lured too close, burst into flame.

Like the cold, clamorings of drunken men,
Phosphorescent from spirits
And tumbling down alleys
Bust into the local taverns,
Snorting, like bulls, from the cold,
They become shadows, against the fireplace,
Telling tall tales throughout the night;

Praying, the flame burns bright, right until dawn…


John Tansey 11.2.7


Copyright ©2008 John Thomas Tansey