You tell me with
moonlight.
What others cannot say.
I’m woman, but I’m
not woman.
It doesn’t matter.
I’m sex and sexuality.
My eyes shine
bright and jeweled
in night
glancing up there,
lofty clouds sail.
You looked,
saw my brunette hair.
It’s fire,
shaded and shaped,
upon your vulva.
This formula of heaven,
my tongue splits upon you.
You looked.
You remembered.
My eyes still shine.
You don’t want to see them.
You can’t unsee them.
The good lover
you wanted.
A body forged with the
beats of your heart.
The moonlight carried
your cries to me.
I’m here
under the three trunk oak.
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