That glorious lady
came calling to us.
And we knew she would.
Tits to tits,
fingertips to nipple,
then
mouth, teeth, lips to nipple.
After we’d spent 3 weeks
hurting and hating each other,
that powerful, almost full moon,
on her way out,
she called us together, she beckoned.
Two women.
That’s how we do.
Cleaned our heads.
Cleared our hearts.
Set us to the tone of oak tree shadows.
Around her home,
the backyard.
Her strong, soft, determined,
yet gentle lips
found my smooth-skin shoulder.
Her sultry face, suave mouth,
maybe the only that can.
Then yes, I said yes to her,
yes to us,
for a moment suspended
between gold light
in navy night and those waffty clouds,
and the moon called us like
animals.
Good lord,
what will we do with each other?
Our animalism seems certain.
For that glorious lady
showed us.
Two women.
You know, the moon comes ‘round
over and over.
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