It was stuck against our screen porch door. In the low amber light, the wings radiated a brownish-red sheen, glistening in the cold midnight air. It was a moth I’d never seen before, gigantic, unlike others my sister had injected with lethal liquid and displayed open, tacked against a board. Tommy reached out toward it in slow motion.
“Don’t touch it,” I blurted. “It won’t be able to fly.”
He moved his face closer. “I think it’s already dead.”
I noticed the minute black hairs on Tommy’s neck. The fringes on the moth’s mantle. The waxing moon reached through the oaks and I felt like I could never marry this guy.
“It’s alive,” I said. Wanting to believe we are, too. “Let’s go inside before we turn to dust.”
The Moth
9 Comments
Submit a Comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Very direct and vivid capture of the moment decisions about a relationship start to unfold and the factors across time, those echoes that inform our reactions. Do they make sense, don’t need to but it is those details we listen to. Thank you.
“I think it’s already dead” becoming almost a kind of foreshadowing for the relationship itself, grabbed me. To the point and exact. Thank you for writing it.
“Don’t touch it,” I blurted.” It can be saved, if left alone- another takeaway for me. Enjoyed also what he saw in those few seconds-the hair, the fringe-all becoming crystal clear. Such revelation through images, loved it.
ROBERT!
So beautiful how the pinned moths injected with the lethal liquid and the ““Don’t touch it,” I blurted. “It won’t be able to fly.”
He moved his face closer. “I think it’s already dead.”
I noticed the minute black hairs on Tommy’s neck. The fringes on the moth’s mantle.” How it all comes together like under a magnifying glass. The narrator sees his whole life within this one moment and it’s tragic! ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT! DEEP LOVE!
Hi Robert. Such a wonderful metaphor, the moth on the screen. Moths are so other/underworldly, like the dark doppelgangers of butterflies. So wonderful to see metaphor as it’s so seldom employed these days. Love this piece. Only thing I wonder about is the “telling” of this line, which may not be needed as the moth is doing the heavy work, “Wanting to believe we are, too.” Wonderful, compact, piece.
RV.
Your precision here is astonishing. Not a wasted word. Everything so taut, yet it feels like I spent the whole night with these two characters, three being the moth, the thing that either binds them together, or flies away, and doesn’t. And the marriage bit was a terrific move. With that one short sentence you turned everything on its head and added a ton of weight to the piece.
Robert, this is so beautiful! I cannot read anything with a moth in it without thinking of Virginia Woolf’s “Death of a Moth,” so the sense of inevitable loss already permeates this for me from the first moment of the title. I LOVE the way you use physical detail to yoke the moth and Tommy and set them into a metaphor together: “I noticed the minute black hairs on Tommy’s neck. The fringes on the moth’s mantle.” It’s so subtle, yet so powerful.
One microscopic suggestion I have is to consider bringing down the line “Tommy reached out toward it in slow motion.” to its own paragraph, just to slow the moment down further.
This is indeed exquisite, Robert. The first lines set the scene so beautifully. By the time we get to the midpoint, ““Don’t touch it,” I blurted. “It won’t be able to fly.” we are in the conflicted emotions of the narrator. Especially with that one word “blurted.” And then things begin to fall apart. Not one wasted word.
Robert, I loved this piece. You’re now in the great tradition of moth writers like Virginia Woolf and Annie Dillard. Such a powerful micro moment. The last line is perfect. Thank you for this!