Like the moon

That inches slowly

Through wooden slats

Like a cat

Prowling before pouncing

The moon beams

Delicately peel the

Browness of your

Skin back like

Your turbulent sleep

Removes the bedsheet

Leaving you ashen

And moving lower

As the moon

Moves higher in

It’s sky eventually

Landing on your

Feet which poke

Free down there

Like a pair

Of wooly mittens

All this as

Satie serenades waft

From hidden speakers

And give me

What I know

Now as beauty