Egyptian Proverb Pt. 2 By A. Mustafa

she finds me awashed, lost /  in the shallow of the prairie 
boasts slick wet promises / seduces even, my marrow
strokes my spine / a signal story:
 
    of fires amidst the desert of Dakhla
    white moths flocked to the flames
    each wave drawn into the bright
    pinions turned to ash of impulse        
    these one-night butterflies called Leila
 
to fly into the flames/ to know the saccharine lick
for even the moment / though brief of beauty
there existed enough light / to yield hot surrender.
 
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