Gabby Zankowitz

Crocus Hour

The moths beat themselves
under the light. Overdue winter throws
a blanket on the porch and salt is all 

we taste. They have scales, you think
its dust, small enough at least
to be dust. In strange patches 

the snow is melting. The moths, you insist
must be chewing again. It can
be fixed. But overhead they sing, don’t 

wait up for me. I don't say this
though. I let your words
thaw the ground.

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Gabby Zankowitz is a Sophomore at Salisbury University pursuing her bachelor's in creative writing and finance. She is an assistant poetry editor for the Scarab and works as a teller at a local credit union on breaks. She enjoys thrifting to give old things a new purpose and reading strange books. This is her first publication as an undergraduate.