Ragged Moth
While we move and shuffle,
the moth watches from the wall.
Mold comes bleeding through
in patches.
This is the last time we will see
this place and we know it,
the last time we will say these
words in this place.
Our surroundings echo back to
us and remind us to move slowly
so that we can remember this.
Like gorging too quickly, our
escape from this place will only
exist in our minds if we taste
and take our time.
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His chapbook, The Truth About Snails, is available from Red Dashboard and he blogs on jddehartwritings.blogspot.com.
Copyright © 2016 by JD DeHart
Randomly Accessed Poetics 