Mothiavelli
I’m thirsty for the fever of her kiss—
The neon sear—the lethal lick she brings.
I burn to surf the heat of her abyss.
I’ll skirt her scorch to shield my flimsy wings.
I’ve heard the zap and breathed the sooty singe
Of smitten kin who skimmed the siren light
Above the kitchen sink. It makes me cringe
To think this bright Delilah of the night
Frazzles chiffon flutters of a dream.
She withers wishes—shrivels them to dust…
But what a smile! I’m flirty in her beam—
A white-hot grin that stirs and stokes my lust,
Enough to charm then char me (just a wisp)
But not enough to fry me to a crisp.
Brody’s Ode
O iridescent brute of razor grin,
O sleek and stealthy beast of steely eye,
You out-gleam garish fish of meager fin
When cleaving through a sea as blue as sky.
O severer of summer surfer’s limb,
O spiller of the crimson cloud of life,
Your frenzied need to feed your greedy whim
Is keener than a blood-soaked butcher’s knife.
O brazen blade of sinuous prowess,
O muscular Poseidon of the deep,
Your ferric sweep and scythe are nothing less
Than grim. The tide tells me you’re ripe to reap—
So here I am to blow you up and gloat!
Behold my bigger (so much bigger) boat.
Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.
Thanks, Susan. Great craft! Mothiavelli struck me as delightfully British in its wit and verbal play. I couldn’t help wondering whether the Machiavellian figure is the moth or the light. Brody’s Ode felt exuberantly American in its cinematic humor and bravado. The contrast made reading them together especially enjoyable.
Thank you, Susan, for adding a new dimension to the old “moth to the flame” image in such a delightful way, the whimsy is much appreciated. Please give us more of your perspectives!
It’s not every day that you get such a plausible (and entertaining) insight into moth psychology. And I love “the crimson cloud of life”. Two gems, Susan. Thank you.