In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

In the Afternoon

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central park

The way we make heads spin, yours and mine,

gyro-scopic, demonically bone-mind entwined,

two dizzy dabblers in the kind and physical arts,

like the moon-lit chase one night in central park,

sleeved knife steel shiver your pace emboldening,

as I dodged trees and cats, tree’d cat spit-hissing

like mongrel mad dogs, mad-dashing as we were

half naked, stumbling drunk, gamboling jig curs;

where that night ended and this afternoon began,

I cannot unwind the tale, follow the threads’ end,

twist-tied in silent slept breath now we’ve become,

once more, one more lie, one last undoing, un-done.

 

 

 

 

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