Window Beneath My Bed Poem by jerome moore

Shorts defining her supple backside of boundless beauty
I raise finger to my lips voyeur and trace the feral panty line
of her eternity.
her succulent peach flesh furry eternity.
Not but sixteen and possessing the universe.
But a tremble
a sigh
boredom
lolita.
I see in this child's lips
how they curl and pout.
her lips but a quiver of butterflies pulsing internal archer
archer traced in the night sky
with burnt out lantern hands
and no friends up there
out the windows beneath my bed.