- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Quiet Eye
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Focus shifts
close, far, here, gone.
Wavy lines, like old-time
television--on the
fritz, they'd say--
shot through with veins of light,
swimming wide-eyed and
half blind.
Your back catches the
imagined light, the stillness of
breath makes night part like
clouds so I can see you.
Fleeting, this vision,
a moment of touch in
your sleepy hush, and the
swelling rush of love that
feels like history,
as family always must.
Already it fades
but I would eat it whole,
swallow it down if I could,
or roll around in it,
happily wallow there,
to make it part of me--
inside of and all around and
over me this corner
of you,
always.
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