Moths

By Jennifer O'Grady b. 1963 Jennifer O'Grady
Adrift in the liberating, late light
of August, delicate, frivolous,
they make their way to my front porch
and flutter near the glassed-in bulb,
translucent as a thought suddenly
wondered aloud, illumining the air
that's thick with honeysuckle and dusk.
You and I are doing our best
at conversation, keeping it light, steering clear
of what we'd like to say.
You leave, and the night becomes
cluttered with moths, some tattered,
their dumbly curious filaments
startling against my cheek. How quickly,
instinctively, I brush them away.
Dazed, they cling to the outer darkness
like pale reminders of ourselves.
Others seem to want so desperately
to get inside. Months later, I'll find
the woolens, snug in their resting places,
full of missing pieces.

Jennifer O’Grady, "Moths" from  Poetry magazine. Reprinted by permission of the author.


Source: Poetry (August 1992).

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This poem originally appeared in the August 1992 issue of Poetry magazine

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August 1992

Biography

Jennifer O'Grady grew up in New York City. She holds a BA from Vassar and an MFA from Columbia University. Her first book of poems, White (1999), won the Mid-List Press First Series Award and a Greenwall grant from the Academy of American Poets. Her poems have appeared in many publications including Harper's magazine, the Yale Review, the Georgia Review, the Kenyon Review, Seneca Review, Southwest Review, The Writer's Almanac . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Love, Relationships, Summer, Animals, Realistic & Complicated

POET’S REGION U.S., Mid-Atlantic

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