THE MOTH CHILD
As a moth circles a lamp
As if for something yearning
But gets scorched wings
As a child in a dingy dory
I circled a basking shark for learning
What it was
Its’ white belly was up while dozing
I made tighter and tighter loops.
My outboard motor smoked and roared.
Jolted from its’ slumber
I was lifted with my skiff, flipped and drenched
When the Mammoth fifty footer dove
Leaving me to cling to drowning lumber
Terrified
Not
Knowing
It was a
Plankton eater