Who is she?

With an elongate rather wet smile, she kisses like a slob!
  But she's a lady

who peeps through the clouds,in her strapless and shawl

  and brooks no lies

And to judge by skin tone and way she hates to face us,
 her oily palms up in prayer

  she's sometimes a St. Terese
The cheeks bulge with jack cheese when she says nothing

  & parsley sticks to her teeth

Shorelines grow eerie down the length of the beach

  when she is near
And stretched over the sands, she likes to follow in tides

  with her big seedy eye
& fuss around rocks and thistles til she's lost in a fog

 She blows out the stars, too

If she only had 'em, she'd probably stand with legs apart,

  looking imperious and cute,
like a wife with her wavy hair tied up in a bun

  Who is she?