The Dying Moth – Scilly Isles 4. Written by Richard Alan Gardham.

The Dying Moth – Scilly Isles 4. Written by Richard Alan Gardham in the early 1960s when he worked in an hotel on the island of St Marys in the Scilly Isles. Transcribed by Angela Gardham.

He’s drunk; the sweating aging textures of skin gleam and roll, the whites of his eyes slowly extinguished by the lowering of his eyelids. The eyes open again, “I’m alright”, the eyes smile warm. The bottom of the upraised bottle hides his face, the liquid inside rushing forward to numb the nerves to kill all the pain. “Have a drink kid”, a bird spoke, the figure slips quickly away. The eyes glared again an’ the watching face turned into a sleepy smile. He threw a kiss to nowhere. She’s wearing tight jeans her hand resting playfully between her thighs. He turned to me, “lovely hey kid?” She turned her head away- chatting. She still swayed her thighs from side to side. He took another swig from the bottle. It slashed all down his face.

There is this dying moth, cavalier white, winged robes, flecked with soft black, white soft mink around its neck and two long rapiers from its head; it kicks helpless as it lays on its back, it can’t fly fallen amongst the dust. Its stopped kicking, now its dead. It looked good enough to be a king laid out in state, fit for removal on a king’s fire. I struck a match and set fire to it, the flames didn’t last long, it was gone.