Today, in a mercury hailstorm, a white moth
bobbed muggy blue summer
to safety in honeysuckle.
I was pinning exotics for "lie" when I saw
and sucked breath thinking
one shard, the plummet.
An old theme.
Belie, byzantine, calumny...
Artificial intelligence can't match us in this,
I imagine. Chess and poetry, maybe, but not
The Portia spider who shakes in a web
won't believe she is prey
when the web-builder nears.
The metalmark moth knows he isn't a spider.
And, as of yet, no laptop I've seen can code its
and flap off as butterfly.
--Meaghan Russell's biography is presently under construction. Please pardon the dust. She lives in Baltimore, Maryland and has work forthcoming in The Bitter Orleander.