There are, there aren't, and yet there are

two women standing naked in a moon harboured

window. Tonight, they declaim that houses

are like bodies and together they will fashion

 a home of incandescent dreams.

Their house, a dirty white bungalow with large windows

sunk into the brick. They gaze at their reflections

 in the night window. Like Luna's daughters, they stand

shoulder to shoulder,  hand in hand,  holding their breaths

 in the still air.  They are here, together now, and not

 merely illusions in a darkened window.

They close their eyes, each imagining a whirlwind

of kisses they will visit on the other.  Do they really believe

 it could have been any other way than this, as they roll

onto the moon-lit bed, in fits of lustful laughter.

They cry out in need, and release, each is overwhelmed,

by the power of procession, and  yet neither will surrender. .