Under a midnight sun
Naked, I collect the mist drifting lost
In the deepest ruts of the forest ditches.
I spin the fog into a corset
I pretend I am a ghost.
The dusking moon fills my breasts
I beguile the wild men into princes
Noble with unholy desires.
Photo by Raspopova Marina on Unsplash
Inspired by Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #194: ‘Beguile‘: write creatively in 51 words
Also inspired by Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: ‘Wolf Moon‘
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