Today I was peeling a garlic clove,
For some stew then boiling on the stove.
One big peel fell circling down,
A flutterby whiter than blue or brown.
It will land, dead and still,
Was what I thought and always will.
But it flew up till it came to my chest,
Around my back and back to my breast.
Its tenacity draining it reached my lips,
Gave me a kiss, and plunged with flips.
I was kissed by a garlic moth,
Taste of garlic and the bubble of the broth:
All I felt or could think of,
As I stood there, filled with love.