The Moth Effect: A Poem

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WORDS BY EMMA WHITE.

Like old bank notes,

Faded and creased from the handling of trade.

Realised and unrealised plans written on pieces of dead trees,

The lungs of the earth burnt to bullae,

Filling with fluid from the rising seas.

Flapping towards the light,

Buffeted around by stressors and dazed by pressures. 

As light and aerodynamic as plastic wrap, 

Cast off a single serve meal, 

Peeled off and discarded, 

Disregarded.

Their navigation disrupted,

Light is not the subject of investigation,

Nor the intended destination,

It’s a navigational procrastination,

Light turns circles, helixes and spirals into consequences.

A warm orange glow, like honey in tea.

Like the way that people find comfort, 

In propriety, and piety to a society.

Circling the light,

Senses overridden

Political economic pressures hidden,

Latent as an occult,

With the stinging, hemorrhagic potential of a cult.

A moth flaps its wings at night,

And ends up encircling a lamp.

EDITORIAL NOTE: This article has been reuploaded and was originally published in 2020.