Lucky
to have sparked your interest,
already, at first sight
I’d like to lift your chin,
letting my lines leach into your lips.
My fruit, my conception, bursting its peel-
Alas, I have known this thirst we share,
It was none but you, alone
more real to me, together
We both imbibed insatiably, yet emptiness
abounds until whole words were filled
in utterly
every open space drowned in white.
Open and sere,
I wish to saturate this dry dirt with
One of our tears
To make something you can use, of utility
To make more time
For thisness in these.
These twirled up murmurs were merely me,
reaching out with invisible waves
for your quiet, distant ear,
And just when I thought
The silence meant
I had nothing to say
To make any better-
You heard every word
Fulfilled
with this.
Painting by William McGregor Paxton (c. 1900) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
