Frances Sackett

Moths in the Agapanthus

Something shudders beneath the flower heads.
It is past dusk, almost dark
and I think it’s late for bees.

Then I see the splayed wings,
watch as they favour the underside
of these huge, blue blooms,

draw long sips of nectar, until
inebriated they sway away
like puffs of smoke.

Static, their velvet, powdery wings
display a deeper curlicue, and lost
within the agapanthus harem

they drink their fill, weave
between the long blue funnels
as though in Pompeii’s street of harlots.

These peacocks of the night come unannounced,
their un-regarded work may only seem
like filaments of shifting atmosphere.

Frances Sackett’s poetry has been published widely in magazines and journals in the UK. She was a tutor in Poetry for the University of Manchester’s ‘Courses for the Public’ for six years, is a founder member of Marple Writers and took part in a project to write poems about Manchester Cathedral in 2016. Her poems also appear in Welsh Women’s Poetry 1460-2001 (Honno Welsh Women’s Classics) and her collection from Seren is The Hand Glass. She recently came third in The Pre-Raphaelite Society’s Poetry Prize.