Open

David Barrick



She shakes out decades-old sweaters
no wool left, just skeletal threads and moths

a fog of little moths, tornados of them, furry legs
and ovipositors, and big moths like birds, like owls

wise moths, moths that have aged and passed on
generational knowledge, worker moths unknitting

walls, crumbling mortar and brick, feather duster
antennae sweeping away debris, bills, mortgage papers

things she should have thrown out years ago—until she stands
alone where her house was, amongst all these moths

iridescent moths, fist-sized abdomens, camphor-resistant moths,
no-flame-too-hot moths, an ablution of moths

and she looks up, thousands of wings shaking the sky:
eat it—open this roof, she says, open a new moon 

 



David Barrick’s poetry appears in The Fiddlehead, The Malahat Review, Event, Prairie Fire, The Antigonish Review, and other literary magazines. He teaches and writes in London, Ontario, where he is Co-Director of the Poetry London reading series. His first chapbook is Incubation Chamber (Anstruther Press, 2019).