Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MOTH'S WING, by JANET B. MONTGOMERY MCGOVERN


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE MOTH'S WING, by                    
First Line: They tell me my man is dead
Last Line: It is the brush of the moth's wing against my cheek I feel.
Subject(s): Death; Moths; Dead, The


THEY tell me my man is dead—
And my babe, the boy that was his father's image;
That I shall never walk again.
It was the railway;
The smoking, mannerless brutal thing
They have brought from the Western world—
But why this thing happened to me and mine
I do not know—
I only know that it was night
When they told me; they held a candle near my face.
About the candle a moth fluttered—
Once it brushed my cheek—
The moth had brown spots on its wings;
Three spots on each wing. It is the wings of this moth
That I see ever before me
When I try to recall the faces of my man and child.
The wings with their brown spots and their fine hairs;
Each hair grown large before my eyes, as though
It were through a microscope I saw it.
And when I would recall the touch
Of my man's hand, or the feel of my babe's tender flesh,
It is the brush of the moth's wing against my cheek I feel.





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