Kryptonite

under the shifting, rusty street lamp lights, 

planted in sidewalk cement 

moths flutter from left to right, up and down, out of sight 

they intermingle flight routes 

and swarm in the warm bliss of the bulb’s luminescence 

the night air is inviting…

the breeze takes adventure by the wing 

they dream… 

to one day get a bit closer to the sun

although the heat may burn their intent 

the reckless risk-takers keep pushing against the inevitable

turning their floating ecstasy into a sinking fear 

they make figure eights with nautical delight

egging themselves up to get… 

just a but closer to their Kryptonite

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– Much love, Esha