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.
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.
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.