un sospiro

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as i sink into my bed
my pink-red sheets forming a cocoon
i watch a moth
dive
straight into the gaps of my venetian blinds
with one broken wing

i watch it dance for life

i imagine its head carried
to egypt and babylon and japan
before it falls into its
mother’s waiting hands

i remember my mother’s own words before
she pushed me in a wheelchair
through the diagnosis room

i once imagined that God was a butterfly
and that i had gingerbread hands
and that piano keys were the only angels

i once imagined a world with no wheelchairs
only jetskis and scooters and motorbikes
and a pillow made of squares and diamonds
my left eye would walk for me
my right eye would talk for me

i wished then i could barter my imagination for freedom
i remember my mother telling me
“time will kill everything”
as she massaged the blood back into my leg

and the venetian blinds would turn dark

i feel sorry for this moth
who has
no wings.
no mother.
no time.





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