Small Visitors

Posted by in Poems on Dec 2, 2011



First the moth, caught in the lampshade

like a lunatic, hurled

between his scalding vision and the cell-wall.


And the spider, slinging sailor-like

high ropes, or bunched

in a patient little fist of appetite.


Next the daddy-long-legs, forever lost,

reading the wall like a foreign language in Braille.


And once, miraculously, a dragonfly,

rustling its wings in the still, inside air,

round the room bewildered, and out again,

bearing its beautiful fuselage

with all the unnecessary dignity

of heartless creatures.