2025 Competition

Rency Raquid

Three Moths

Where I’m from, the dead come back moon-borne,

their little winged powdery bodies lighter than before.

Not a week after she passed my grandma came back,

alighted then fluttered deliriously against the living

room walls, lit by a searing incandescent bulb. She was

confused which way was up or down. She didn’t need

didn't ask for her chamomile tea. I think she liked that

we kept her awake. Shortly, my grandpa moved back in.

Her clicks and squeaky pheromones kept him punctual.

He was hairier than usual, she didn’t mind. She laid eggs

on the curtain she’d loved. Its softness fed their brood

who soon flew off to find their own. Last night, another

one tapped on my window. I didn’t know who it was

but where I’m from, we don’t let anyone get cold.