Please enjoy this poem from Creation Stories,
available on Amazon

Lady of the Moths

A winged blanket
Carpets her path
Like rose petals.

He sweeps away dust-dry
Bodies they leave
As offerings.

A monsoon of dark,
Breathy wings
Pour against the glass.

He blackens windows
Snuffs light
Forbids turning moons.

Luminescence beckons
From beneath
Her pale-white skin.

He sleeps shadow-side
Dreaming dark
As an eclipse.

Feather-light they find
Her crescent ear,
Thrum their message.

Moth-dust outline
Of her cocoon body––
He wakes alone.