The terrible hope of a moth trapped in a spider’s web caught my attention. How long had the moth been feverishly yanking against this gossamer vise? An incessant arc of rushing to, attempting fro. There were moments when I grew bored of the moth’s struggle, looking away. Then I’d return to watching it wind ever-closer to its silken casket. Hover. A heartbeat. Surrender? A fraught lunge, the small body straining against its unforgiving tether. One final extension of wings. The moth conceded defeat, slowing its wingbeats against the web, which rocked impassively with the vestigial energy of the moth’s intentions.
Christine Caprio is a writer and teacher in Maine. She is currently completing her MFA in Creative Nonfiction/Narrative Medicine with Bay Path University.