Luna moths flapped their wings and ran into each other,
They flew around my stomach in circles,
At the sight of a missed call from my mother.
It was normal for me to have a missed call from her,
I wasn’t sure—
Why this was different.
I called her back,
Her voice choked, she cleared it, then choked again,
Her Luna moths were crawling up her throat,
While praying mantises fought on her tongue.
“Grandma Knorr is dead,” she said.
The moths stopped flitting in my stomach,
Dropped to the bottom of it,
Piled on top of one another,
Died just like my grandmother’s name in my ear.
You listened to me talk on the phone,
Calmed the first real death I’ve known,
With no words.
I curled my head down,
You welcome my tears with your arms,
All I can think is that-
I want to love like my grandmother loved.
I want to marry a man that I can love for half a century.
I want to have the courage to believe in God and magic and Satan.