midnight's opening act

Her fingertips are becoming arthritic.
Partially from all the times she's lifted the moon by its boot straps
Whist it was sun bathing on a lakefront at midnight.
She held it in the palms of her hands until it melted...
Slithering through her phalanges like a molten gold and honey lathery mix.
She forms little counter clockwise loops with her left index finger in the chilly cocktail until sunlight's mockery forms a dozen Starry Nights composed on a canvass of hydrogen and oxygen lip locking.
Hammock swings with limbs spilling over.
Crickets singing like how engines rev.
Fire flies leaving neon polka dots on the atmosphere's short term memory.
She lies on the seafloor of the Almighty until sunlight makes its grand entrance...

All that was missing was him...