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

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