Junkie

The blind moth fluttering
outside the window: nothing
but the light will coax it in
out of the darkness:
the spidery light

of ecstasy, a pinprick,
the hot rush, body
floating, wings seared,
a rushing of blood that bubbles:

then slowly, colder
colder contortions
and the long dark hours
sleepless as a lizard licking
the grit from under its eyelids.

by Charl JF Cilliers

Other poems of CILLIERS (557)

Comments (3)

it's the 'Has' after 'Charms' that does it for me. And the thought of those smiles in heaven
Monument! With the memories of the past. Nice work.
Sweet, sonorous sixteen-hundreds sonnet. Somewhat sappy yet still pleasing some four hundred years later.