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
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 