I absentmindedly
pick at the light
object on my pant leg
must be food I dropped
my peripheral vision says
to my brain
only when it is in my hand
do I see the corpse
severed wing
antenna like the eyelash
I pulled off my son’s cheek last night
and taught him to wish
whisper of a life
spent around light bulbs
mistaking them for the moon
little bug
was it a good one
were you ready
to turn in
were you still here last night
when my husband made me laugh
so hard we woke up the kid
did you lie back afterwards
in the cave of night
like I did and think
how lucky that thorns
have roses.