I am a ballpark moth.
a buzzing light is made my home tonight

in time it dries my wings and takes my flight
but for now i live aloft a peacetime game all
shouts and metal.

If i could say,
i know i can’t,
Like a broken arm cast in sound aluminum,
Unmoveable
                                        but highly mobile.

Soon enough you’ll hear a mother’s admiration,
pride by proxy someone taught me:
Aggression   in sublimation.

What makes a mother fly i’ll never know.
I refuse to help mythmake America’s obsessions.

smoke or dirt or metal war

mythologize

and I’ll wait forever for these wings to dry.