the moon leaves imprints
dusts of fairies
on my shoulder
tan lines from its bright saucy nature
that interior glow so reminiscent
of an atomic explosion
that blisters and scars
angry red welts
no rather
this is like the freeze the doctor uses
the rich dermatologists
burning out your warts
creating bruises
deftly shadowing the inner crooks of your arms
that light fails to reach
and is soft to the touch
of baby bottoms