White moths without eyes

absent mouths, single winged



of combusted life


thermal motion

relieved of flame.


You weave wild,

lifted by swirling air


that catches you in its

confused grip, heat mixed


with cold. You rise and

you fall and you fall


and you land, decorating

my sleeve and my thigh as


I extend my fingers toward

the warm licks


roaring above your

steaming corpse.


I cry tears that purge your

smoke and you wander


away carried by a slow

southeasterly wind.


-Josephine Pino

Josephine is a biologist educator who has recently discovered that poetry, teaching and science not only play well together, they help each other thrive. She has published in El Portal, Cathexis NW, Curating Alexandria, Raw Art Review, and Tiny Seed Literary Journal.