U N P R O T E C T E D
every moon tonight is so straight up
that it hurts to look up
& worship.
Cold winds blow near-black wisps
of clouds hard South
like veils finally flung by fists.
Cold winds will strip our disguises
“Beach Beauties” laid bare.
The sea will see that..and saw that
What’s left of raw beauty,
Not stolen by cold air, and
unveiled, will fare well
Unseen.
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