Blogging & Poems, My Poems

When He Asked Her to Turn Him into a Poem

She removed his shirt
and pushed him

into the moonlight.

He became all silvery skin.
And so she painted him—deep black

covered portions of
his arms, his hands, his face,

until finally she moved him out
of the moonlight.

He disappeared,
except for a hand here, a limb there,

and also his eyes, the pale blue,
that reminded her

of the moonlight.
He was only floating pieces,

shining. And silence.

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