Poets for Science
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Actias luna / Luna Moth 

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We’ve spent more time 

than we have left becoming 

what we are, but who could 

say what was wasted in that

service, luminous, unfurled 

on paper birch, our first night. 

Your flight has found me, 

and we have what time we 

have before hunger starves 

us, before whatever comes 

on silent wings, devouring. 

We’ll confound with fragile 

adaptations of our beauty, 

make promises to a future 

I’ll affix like leopard jasper 

beads to a leaf. Beneath 

streetlamps, the bats whirl.