Hungry

The world in gauze. Beautiful wounds to dress. The film a microscope. To find the smallest holes. In any man.

I see the moon. She said. And it sees me too. Like whiskers on a cat. It feels. For a way to escape the evils of curiosity. I hear the dog barking. Discontent. That it has lost the scent. Of all the flowers we dug up. Before this barter began.

He stares. She listens. It's over. Her pants are gone. In wild fireworks. Her thighs erupt. Wanting what is not there. The magic of failed men not escaping her stare. She draws the pictures. In thick pencils rarely sharpened.

You're alone now she presses. But I couldn't change that. Nor all the suicides I've seduced.

I'm alone now. He acquiesces. A bear. With the Goldilocks asleep in my bed. I can only assume. She wants to be eaten.