GOLD FLAKES ONE DAY PRIOR
I have always been a fiend
for something, now it's you. I'm fiendish.
So praise me! I love it when you do.
You are square, so elegantly
square and make me feel
another shape. Shapely. An accursed animal for sure but
Pretty. Feline. Ocelot. You Ursine?
A bashful dog? Definitely not.
You with a serious face, so
Absolutely human or made of the earth.
Geological face with a gently mobile mouth. Tectonic.
Mutable. Mouth like a pool of water, flows
down, eddies. Makes a good, soft
whirring sound. Grinds out compliments that
incapacitate me. I grow shy and I
have never been shy. You are like nature:
Perfect, stupid, damaged, blithe.
You roll your eyes like rivers too.
A gesture with your mouth and rolling eyes:
alchemical affection,
two slits of glossy white.
You are a Conjurer.
You've got the water tamed.
You say "This is Magic, me in
This place. I'm munificent and
I control you; the birds; apparitions.
Your sex organs cleave,
yawn, clamber at my discretion."
(Of course this isn't true.
The weather doesn't echo you.
Nature doesn't. Nothing
cleaves, nothing goes off in there.)
But I see that Brevity
begets Purity, we've had to keep it brief.
The earth plus minions rise between us.
Water stays limpid, though, beckoning.
Other things beckon:
That monkey-faced cat
Your songs which roil, rebound, enchant and bother me
The road that idly loops your house,
my feet on that road,
my excellent head in that air.