I felt guilty about my nightlight in the bathroom, surrounded every morning with a cluster of dead bugs. I pulled its plug and stumbled in the dark a stolid week. But who am I to know what moths need? I want to die like St. Francis: arms stretched, standing, not slipping into a morphinated haze. But maybe reveling in brightness - even artificial – can console or elevate, if you’re short on time. Now I’m content to be the one who tidies up the shelf where moths come to die. ////////// Mary Newell authored the chapbook TILT/ HOVER/ VEER (Codhill Press 2019) and the forthcoming Re-SURGE (Trainwreck Press 2021), poems in journals and anthologies, and essays. She is co-editor of Poetics for the More-than-Human-World: An Anthology of Poetry and Commentary. A former Assistant Professor, she curates the Hudson Highlands Poetry Series. Newell (MA Columbia, BA Berkeley) received a doctorate from Fordham University with a focus on environment and embodiment in contemporary women’s writing. https://manitoulive.wixsite.com/maryn.