Falling as the Moths

Poetry by Nicholas Shipman
Issue 37 • March 2016 • Richmond

Streetlamp radiance gilds cherry leaves
with the scarlet gold of treasure-hoards’
pyre, the iron trees of Man’s forest
embracing false suns about which dance
fleetingly falling moth-spirits
bearing the wraiths of gold-sick lords
who cast themselves upon the wrack
of falling halls
falling as the moths fall,
wings echoing the wingbeat
of the wyrm gnawing at the roots
twisting at the core of every banker’s heart,
wingwhisper greed the pulse that lights
the eyes of skyscraper lords
chasing falling fortune off the edge
of glass cliffs
falling as the moths fall,
wingdust drifting through crimson-gold
islands in the sea of night,
all a-glitter with dreams of dragon-hoards
gnawing at the roots of the world,
falling as the moths fall.

Nicholas Shipman is a Richmond-based author studying and working at Virginia Commonwealth University. He has the honor and delight of serving as the Associate Fiction Editor at Metaphysical Circus Press. His poetry and comics have appeared in such publications as The Other Herald, Weird, Quail Bell, the Mountain Echoes anthology, and Cobblestone(s).

Become a Whurk superfan!
Sweet bonus photos, only $1 per month
Pledge Now Learn More

More Stuff From Issue 37
More Poetry Features
Other Recent Stuff