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by Sherman Pearl
It's a whole lemon meringue pie tonight,
cream whipping across its face.
You are not so dessert-tray perfect
but if not for you
the moon might've driven me wolf-wild,
left me howling and hungry.
When you bared yourself
in the light it shines through our window
your breasts were fuller
than they used to be, closer to earth;
your belly rounded itself into a half-moon
when you sat on the bed;
when you lay down
your body was explorable as a moonscape.
All of which
makes you more enticing than the moon
and more edible.