By: Linda M Crate

i hide in the hallows
of words
trying desperately to melt
away the husks and shells and pieces
of me that i don’t like
to lovingly caress
my virtue,
and make excuses for the dirtiness
painted upon the walls
because when you work as much as i do
it doesn’t leave much motivation
for cleaning—
then one morning i open my eyes
admit that i am wrong
watch as the moths flew away,
and held light in my palms
once more.