Brenda Taulbee

Like A Moth Lost in the Galaxy’s Void 


That child

squaring scrawny shoulders,

gritting his teeth

and boring into

Apollo’s unblinking left eye.

see, he surfaced,

punctured,

through the center of that molten

orb and into the

colddarkbleak

of the universe.

even sodden with sunspores

wax wings fly

so far

before sloughing off in

thick sheets

cold

creeps into young lungs

as trembling boychild devours

the howquiet of the infinite

and dreams.

of birdsong.

of grass.