Me (Moth)

by Amber McBride

Before we broke in half we were merging.

That day there was only enough prayer & blood for one of us to walk out.

Maybe here, in this Virginia suburb, everyone glues their lips shut because I don’t wear North Face & UGGs. I like girls as much as boys. I don’t slingshot the n-word so I am not white or Black enough— I am not something to anyone.

Eye roll we get it youre not likke the other black kids

The two other Black kids on the bus are younger & don’t speak. Or they speak, but never to me. They never bothered to learn my name. Which might be a blessing, considering my name.

Did you bother to learn their names?

Transverse orientation means to follow the angle of the moon. It led moths straight for millennia, until fire & the tragic lightbulb. A flashlight shambled a million years of celestial navigation, the artificial hue somehow outshining the actual moon.

But what of other light? Like a sea turtle moving toward spotlit pavement instead of the moon-rippled sea.

Why clog your lungs when fresh air surrounds you? I like having a choice. Isn’t nicotine addictive?

Okau the fault in our stars

Therapist: Less living won’t bring them back, Moth.

I’d rather be feared & blessed than be too perfect.

I wrap us tight on the floor in my blanket, rocking him back & forth, not sure how I got here with this beautiful, sharp-edged boy whose voice is dipped in spirit & dust, who smells like rain & dirt. & me (Moth) a spark that won’t unlight— a spark that wants to be a wildfire— to ignite.

Literally how did they’d relationship become this where was the build up to this???

I lived too much. I took up too much space. Sani’s jaw works. You can’t shrink. My hands bind together in my lap. You shrink, Sani, you try not to take up any space at all, you don’t sing, you don’t smile. Sani white-knuckles the wheel. Can’t you see I am working on that? No. I can’t.

He sings soft, like he doesn’t want to disturb anything living.

My tiny feet on his

Yuck