Moths, Flame & Sand Dollar

 

Moths, Flame

At dawn beneath the light
moths come
to the smoldering ruins
searching the ashes
for loved ones

Ash drifts into the air
like stark remains
of ghosts
wingless and frail

When the ashes land
they do not break but
vanish in poofs

like powdered birds
stomped on
by the wind’s foot

 

Sand Dollars

The shore is overgrown with sand dollars
as if crawling
and pulling the sand apart

Sometimes they look at me
like they have faces
Should I love them?

Mostly I feel nothing
toward their pale color
even worse, I feel everything

Lowest of all is when
I walk the beach
crushing them beneath my soles

and after the waves come
pulling them out to sea
the starfish will finish them

What remains are
hollow sandy shells
worthless and poor

and I feel nothing
but this wet earth
beneath my bare feet

Somehow it doesn’t matter
wet or dry
it doesn’t matter

and this is enough for me
either way
it is enough falling apart for now

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