Another Light
Naomi Tercero
When I learned why moths flock to artificial light, I cried.
Your guitar stares
& pulls strings
To dull me
When will my head finally empty?
When all my most “relevant” thoughts take a
Tumble
Out?
I have to remind myself.
I’m not a revelation.
I told my therapist I can’t write happy poetry.
Even my love poems cry.
It’s what inspires you.
Why?
When I was a teenager,
I willed the world to end.
All at once.
I thought love was something you collected,
Knick knacks on a prized self
Something to horde.
I can’t forget your taste on my lips.
The flutter of wings—
Exhaling.
Too rare to throw out.
Etched in skin
I followed.
Yellowed paper of
Folktale.
If you tell me a story, I hold onto the words
Like my mother.
They attach at the hip
I sway.
The moth uses the moon as a compass—
lunar navigation.
It thinks a light bulb is the moon.
I would sing lullabies &
She would leave kisses on eye lashes,
Through my window
There, on my bedroom pillow.
When will I learn to stop exploiting myself
for attention.
Silent vow
Kept like a child
Discarded and tattered
I tuck myself away in my own memories,
Falling apart at long limbs—
Of comfort.
Brick & vine
Linen & hair to braid between these very fingers.
What of love?
What of the moon?
I’m not any better than those moths.
I wander into false light
And drown in it.
Poetry – Another Light
Naomi Tercero
Naomi Tercero writes to remember, to imagine, and to make sense of what lingers. She is a student of Journalism and Media at New Mexico State University in Las Cruces, where she explores poetry, creative nonfiction, short fiction, and journalism. Her work has been featured on KRUX radio’s blog and in many local community writing showcases.