Moonstruck

© 1999 Gary West
All rights reserved.

She sits at the edge of a small nameless lake, her feet bare, her dark
tearfilled eyes held skyward basking in the imagined

Above and behind her, softly pulsing tendrils of age-bleached
moonlight (or are they slowly spinning motes of time-wearied
moondust?...) reach toward her, searching ... seeking the long-term
sanctuary her warm pliable flesh promises....

warmth of a newly risen moon, waiting ... for something other than
the end of her world, her life, to begin—

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