I tried to smell
A buttermoth! Sitting
There, upon my arm!

(last night)

I could see
It was faded, about
To die, soon.

(last night)

I snuffed gently,
A dying butterfly,
Still alive, some how.

(last night)

What a beauty!
This buttermoth! Tickling
My arm hairs!

(last night)

Then, it turned, and
Looked up at me, and
Scuttled to my elbow.

(last night)

I thought it had gone,
This pretty common moth-inside,
Making a home of me.

(last night)

But it wasn’t,
It secretly walked
Up my inside arm,

(last night)

Smelling me.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 8/2/09