Peleg Held

Luna Moth, the Seventh Night

The web is flush with flitgreen,
the chalk of wings
where the struggle rattles
morning to descend and drink
the dregs of flight
now thickening in the cup.

Cradle, cradle, spinnerette
and eyespots crying owl,
the patterdrum of night struck vows
fashioned at the zenith.
Unscaled, veins washed by light,
the eight armed blue tipped turns us home
beneath the shining tapetum,
into the pupal hum.

Peleg Held is a writer who lives in Portland Maine with his partner as they conspire towards homesteading Down East. He is a carpenter and a father and but the general state of wildness in his children have led some, his partner among them, to question this designation.