The Night Stripped Bare By Her Bachelor

Out in the desert
the moon hangs above
my body at rest,
gleaming silver
like a button.
The sky seems to throb
in time to my stomach,
which presses against my shirt
with every exhale.
I wonder what kind
of strange flesh
breathes behind
the clothes of Night.

Is the Night
hard and unyielding,
like abs that have never
known the taste of red meat?
Or is it soft and yielding,
like my belly?

I reach my hand out,
fingers encircling the Moon,
wondering if the crickets
chirping in the shadows
are cheering me on…
or warning me that some buttons
should never be undone.

But it’s cold out here,
and I am alone…
So come down, Moon,
keep me company.
Strip the Night
of its modesty.
Show me what you’ve been hiding.

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