Before The Moon Lowered Her Skirt

The hard body of a soft

melanated convection.

Her presence sank deep,

dissolving in my bed sheets.

Her mind— a cozy cover for my

canopy,

the shade I needed when the sun

came back to me.

She didn’t carry on after one 

drink,

yet, she stayed sober—

she stayed over.

We became closer,

like a conversation at word’s thirst.

Talking and turning,

before the moon lowered her skirt.

—JG  ©2026