walking beneath the moonlight feels like undressing

under fluorescents: terrifyingly all-there.

Every crease fold curve button corner and breath

that makes up her celestial sheepskin

prays that potholed pavement and parked cars

won’t make her look so appetizing.

She tries to walk without giving anything away or

letting her body shiver too beautifully.

Strange. Just this morning she had been ready to

lick this world from her lips like a wolf.