We saw them everywhere

We saw them everywhere, the moths inside the oven
& stuck to cold basement walls. So small & light
as if lightness was the opposite of sadness
in some early version of the world. When I peeled
them from the walls, all frozen & stuck
with skin, I wanted to scream like a bird
with no mother. I am not a man with hundreds of reasons
to kill a sparrow. The part of my quick
beating heart that is a small boy

has never been sadder. He felt like a dying animal
the way beasts look in the mirror & feel like gods
or small frozen moths. This is what I mean: their deadness
was something sacred. Let me explain: still trembling
with the possibility of flight. I have never known anything
as important as that. Let me explain: that awful
blueness. Let me explain: the point is to look like the ocean.

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