By Sarah Bigham
Alone in the attic
The moth-eater waits
For those who come calling
And just want to take
The blankets and dowries
The moth-eater keeps
Giving chase to the thieves
Who flutter and creep
Fabrics are brittle
When set against time
As are old diaries and
Books coated in grime
I do not tear at the seams
I do not leak from the core
I do not fade away slowly
Dripping conscience through pores
The moth-eater guards
The moth-eater eats
And the moth-eater growls
While I dream in my sleep
Send indictments and tweets
There is a committee that greets
Conmen and liars
And launderers and cheats
Empaneled in Washington
Other moth-eaters wait
For those who went trawling
And just wanted to take.
Sarah Bigham writes from the United States where she lives with her kind chemist wife, three independent cats, an unwieldy herb garden, and near-constant outrage at the general state of the world tempered with love for those doing their best to make a difference. Find her at www.sgbigham.com.
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