Silkmoth

Creature trailing in the house-corners
I was not prepared to see life go
Her ministrations bear away my thoughts
Arcs of light hard-white as tow

I dedicated myself here—
Wood-cave,
Warm house, drenched
In longing

I sit and watch the moon come in
Light-fingers tell me
Day Is dawning

My bones have maybe grown from wings
They ache to spin and run unburdened
My skin was maybe knit from lace
I desire to greet the world unhardened

Everything not worth doing
Slippered comfy in a corner of my mind
I think I would pay to be like you, my friend
Whisper-small and kind