In that first sight
an outline is sketched
a pathway between
two possibilities
the pull of two bodies
magnets must make
contact
pulled into another's space
when time stops
the metronome skips
a jump
roped around and
bound by rapture
infatuation
with another's mortal shell
of man
salivating for what he has
not tasted
stewing on it, doing nothing
an opportunity wasted.
Like Narcissus
who ogled away
all sense
of deep reflection
the possibility of rejection
guaranteed a need
to never know
a scant scent
mortally wounded
by self-destruction
impaled by imagination
sinking in stagnation
of want and wait.
Who throws back
the gift of their gaze
full of meaning
speechless and loudness
settled in alternating currents
in concentrated beams
directed
knowing nothing
about each other
together
exploring the exotic
fields of face and trace
lips and lines
seeking signs.
Maps are naked ideas
taking a stab at form
coming together
sailing
enjoying the view
while gazing
transfixed
into
those deep sea eyes
exploring
the depths
of you.
Image of painting by John Singer Sargent [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Lady Agnew of Lochnaw, 1892.
