Moonbeam shadows,
hands protecting the flame, that’s my shit.
Tucked into a sweater, breathing solitude and Mary Jane
in knee socks while the air goes stale.
Shy Girl,
an infrequently visited artifact,
spent the party
in the mountains of Middle-earth.
Your crooked glance is fuel
for an art you’ll never feel.
Shy Girl is a collector of odd things.
Places them around in the light, just
so, all for the sensational company of
belief in something whole and uncertain.
Shy Girl says, believe in the moon and
feel and attention is not Love and too often,
I can’t.
It is a wonderful, rugged thing to be human
with such grand emotion.
Shy Girl, a paradoxical shapeshifter,
weary of codependence, of the physicality of the Earthly realm,
would become human for Love.
PLUTO BLOOMING 