A moth flies into a podiatrist’s office and says,
“I hate my wife, my son, and myself.
I can’t look in mirrors anymore. Please help me.”

The foot doctor tells him, “I’m sorry
but I can’t do anything for you.
Why did you come here?”

And the moth says,
(this is the punch line)
“Your light was on.”

Everyone laughs.

I leave out the parts about
moths flying too close to the light
because they don’t know it will **** them,

how they flit through open windows into our bedrooms
because they are following something beautiful,
because they don’t know that they’re lost,

that we find their tiny corpses
in the corners of our homes
and behind our beds.

I’ve always looked in mirrors too long.
I stare at the dark circles under my eyes and think,
“Please help me,” and my reflection says, “I’m trying.”

I thought about killing myself yesterday
and didn’t tell anybody,
not even my foot doctor.

No one laughs,

because that’s about as funny
as a suicidal moth turning towards the light
because he has nowhere else to go.