Sixteen years after being exposed
to disparlure, an entomologist still attracts
male gypsy moths during mating season.
—Source unknown, 1993
What dust was spilled on us
when we two met?
Our partings are never easy
nor our returns.
After four decades of stormy loving,
the fire still burns
and sparks fly between us
as if the flames were willed.
Like gypsy moths in moonlight,
the scent of our first evening lingers.
The night is filled with stars
and bright with a powerful sweetness.
Whatever gifts it brings, we will
draw near.
Shake down on us, dear life, more,
and still more, dust.
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