Third

You slurped like soup
A spoonful of the moon,
Its light, mysterious, 
Escapes your narrowed eyes
Beguiling.

I smell the slightest fur
On top your arms.
You bathe in citrus
And blueberry cream.
You taste of river water
And the freshest, sweetest streams,

And I am grateful for the mattress,
Dizzy, drowning from my feet.

- 8/25/26

Comments

  1. Wesley MeadSeptember 3, 2026 at 12:56 PM

    Glad to see you still writing as thoughtfully and perceptively as ever!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. L. BangsSeptember 5, 2026 at 9:50 AM

      Thank you! It is great hearing from you. When the mood strikes, drop me a line - my username (no spaces or punctuation) @ gmail.com and let me know how you’re doing!

      Delete

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