The death of the moth

by John Boland

Margaret found you
at the side of the house
in a tray full of rain.

You were too exhausted
to flutter free,
so she brought you in

and put you carefully
on the window sill,
to recover your strength.

But you didn’t.
The next morning we went
to remove your corpse

and found behind you
fourteen tiny eggs,
a legacy of defiance.

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