20 March, 2007

Disease is a spiral in my irises

its curves and lines play

Pattern on whatever the grey-green captures

Infection spreads with a single glance

yet (unable to resist tracing the path of

brown curls' collision) I wait

Pause

Count

Breaths

until liquid looks hit mine, and

my gaze darts away, a cloudy fish

upon the cross-streams of your smile

(growing, waves of envious longing ebb

and build) along the banks of conspiracy

I lounge in a hypocrite's palace of sand