4:42 PM

The power went out right as the light

began to do that heavy, orange thing.

The radiator caught it. It looked—well, bright,

but in a way that makes your knuckles sting.

It showed the chips in the lead-based paint,

making the metal look tired and old.

And there, in the grime, a moth, small and faint,

stuck to the glass as the room turned to cold.

For three seconds, it was a golden scrap,

lit from behind like a holy, dead bug.

Then the sun dropped down into the map

of the trees, and I sat on the rug.