Mothman's girlfriend doesn't wait, Lynn Finger

at home for him.

They have it out one night about how

he jumps

into the headlights on the bridge.

She calls it “greedy seeking,”

instead of letting the drivers discover him

emerging from the shadows,

which is more terrifying.

She goes out. She has her own bridges to stalk

at night, with her ripped stockings, rippled

silk wings

and her red facet eyes.

She’s doesn’t answer

when he calls, in fact throws her phone

into the river.

He goes out again, scares cars all night,

his red eyes large as plates. His heart

isn’t in it, though.

She’s hasn’t answered

him in hours.

He flexes as the next set of headlights

rake him, and jumps into what he thinks

is the glare

of a motorcycle lamp.

But it’s her, and she’s holding a large

flashlight. “How would I ever

find you

again, if you didn’t love the light?”

she asks. “Such a true moth.”

He folds her into his clotted wings,

and they levitate through the approaching

headlamps of a semi-tractor trailer,

the driver not knowing

if he is witness to

the flight

of a many-winged devil, or has just realized a way

to capitalize on what up to now

has been his boring life.

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Lynn Finger’s writings have appeared in 8Poems, Perhappened, Twin Pies, Book of Matches, Miniskirt Magazine, Drunk Monkeys and is forthcoming in Resurrection Mag. Lynn is an editor at Harpy Hybrid Review and works with a group that mentors writers in prison. Follow Lynn on Twitter @sweetfirefly2.