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  • Mascara for Luna

    I found her clinging to the screened back porch;
    her dainty wings glistened in a sun still sleepy not ready to wake.
    All day long I watched her;
    when evening finally let go,
    peepers moved in with their dusky song.
    She arched her back and stretched her wings
    in the sultry air that held a moon.
    She asked if she could use my mascara.
    I watched her pull the wand over her long lashes
    like a silkened glove.
    She covered her lips with glittery dew
    that had gathered on a post.
    She sighed,
    smoothed her wings,
    stroked her lips
    and pushed off from the screen.
    I watched her bleed into the darkness
    and then went into the house;
    I let the screen door slam.
    I put on a red sequined halter-top
    filled up my too-tight white jeans
    and slipped into sleek patent stilettos.
    I pulled my hair up off my neck
    leaving tendrils to rest on moist skin
    that I dabbed with rich perfume.
    I stroked my lashes, powdered my cheeks, and glossed my lips.
    Out of the door I saw her poised on the hood of my car;
    her wings pumping.
    I started my engine;
    and followed her down the dirt road
    knowing full well that this night of hunting
    would kill us both.

    Pamela Wilonski

    In June, I saw my first Luna Moth in upstate New York. The sight of her conjured up all sorts of stories; in my mind anyway. A female Luna Moth flies only at night; she releases a chemical which attracts mates. Her only purpose; to mate; she dies shortly after.
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