You hold my eyes in your
hand. Now cradling them against
each other, now jostling them
bouncily. We need us, but neither you
nor I can say why.
The distance between us is exquisite.
Who will be the first to cross? I know
that in my heart, there is
a secret chamber, that pumps
but secrets. And you are on the lips
of every one. Every secret I have
- either yours to have, or a secret
about you. Your love of me is a bribe, but
it's not enough to get me my eyes back. This
poem is going nowhere right. And you
- are on the lips of everyone. And I hang
my head in judgment, a self-tied noose
tightening about my self-tied neck,
while you sit astride the horse that will pull
away my footstool, and jostle bouncily.
I need perspective on what I have
to offer you. In this situation, it seems to me
that I am the one holding all the cards.
But you've got my eyes. You've got my eyes, darling.
What's up with that.