the fluffer moon

I knew he'd come.

The same buttery moon
who kissed me between the eyes last evening, now probes my eyelashes
from the blueblack of the west.

I got up, shed my gown and stepped outside to show him what a woman has to offer. “Bring it braggart.” I said 
and give him a twirl.


 Back inside, my husband was
watching from the warmth of our bed.
He pulled me in all chilled to points and said “He'll have to wait his turn.”

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