The moth was on the wall
near the stove I was wiping down,
the kitten by the door, mewing
to go out, it was late,
I was tired, the moth was large,
it had fluttered at me earlier.

Before I could think, I grabbed
the moth, and threw it to the floor
in front of the cat. Right away, I felt bad,
I turned back to the stove, slightly
repulsed with myself.

Harming creatures is not my way,
the feel of its quivering weight
within my fist, brought dismay,
the soft fat splat
bothered me most.

The kitten was playing deliriously,
I smiled at the sound, she’s the baby
of the five in our flamboyant pack,
loves the hunt and capture of beastly moths,
a gyrating jumper extraordinaire,
but inexperienced,
the moth escaped.

I walked to the sink, gently chiding her,
she was looking up with rounded eyes,
I didn’t see the moth
until I was close to the door,
quickly I lashed out my hand,
caught it again and
threw it to the floor,
in front of the cat.

I wasn’t so surprised this second time,
those few thinking seconds brought
a logic of life, the kitten was mine,
beloved and sweet,
the moth was not.

Erin Moen
10/29/03
Copyright 2003 ©