I have looked upon
the dark drink
of a mouth, narrow
as a long hall where
the only end is black.
I have watched
as the pulp of your
tongue became thick
and shadowy, as though
each word was hiding
from the next
word to follow.
I have looked upon
the features that beam
transparent as the
curve of your jaw
or neck are shown
in the absence of light.
The exploding scents
of your bones are a
vision behind blood
cells floating
in eyelids—closed.
I have looked upon
light that drips
oil glazed songs
that sludge from the corner
of your lips. Darkness
that is avoided
becomes the subtlety
of real; the distant tower
where fulfillment may
be pulsing.
I have looked upon
the gaze I cannot see.
I have felt the eye whispering
in the palm of my hand.


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