White Moths


Mother Earth News
Mother Earth News

After the first revolution

the poet’s were busier than

cabbage moths in the garden

 The Poet’s Garden   Maxine Kumin




When the white moths eat away at my words I feel I’ve betrayed myself. I have let the inner critic chew up and spit out my truth. As if it didn’t matter, as if what I had to say wasn’t important.

They are insidious, these moths, they seem to be saying, who do you think you are? I will gnaw away at your until you are so vanilla, so bland you will be almost invisible. You will not take up space, except as a reflection of others, which is your only true worth.

The moth says, I will eat up and chew up and shit out those sentences that start with I. Those “Is” are sweet to me. Tasty. A feast for the destruction of the You that is You.

Rebekah Riebsomer Spivey for the Poplar Grove Muse

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