A Bogong moth
darts out of
darkness
to seize fire -
it�s burned away its tarsi,
yet
continues to swoop,
kiss, careen, sizzle,
fluttering and
candle-banging
like fawn-crazed Nijinski.
I look up from my book
accepting the
immortal,
fatal dance
of life and light,
like Icarus�s
father
resigned to watch
his flying boy
hurl against
brilliance.
When you were a baby
night
crying,
often the
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