The Moth Poem by Jan Sand

Across the bathroom mirror,
Flapping in neat duplicates,
The soft gray moth,
Banging head to image head,
Falls
Before I can, with erring open palm
Deflect directed trajectory
From down the open drain.
Its glowing yellow eyes beg rescue,
Crouching in the dark beneath the perforated cap
In crippled hopeless hope.

Impossible to rescue
From the thoughtless mindless faucet twist
That swirls in black water down
To drown in some blind hell.