Daniel Porder
My eyes, weary, as I twist their orbs to those more lovely
other eyes, yours, Lady, floating like cloud-covered heavens
I've watched and wished for, studied by touch - but that gaze!
a blow, an emerald unbroken by emeralds, saucers other-
worldly in their want. Do you want that Husband more than I
want respite from your spoon's caving ache, concave
my cries - your fingers flick him like marionette strings,
he dons your emerald glances like wedding bands.

The spoon, the spoon's ring, snagged me. It was dawn, it was
not - it was never - when the mighty implement plummeted;
and first nothing, first a shaded band, a shadow unmanned,
my stumble over harsh electric light, under metal edges
you now inch into so so sweet (O lady of the lovely
inches) and lift from me - and I flee - O, how you shriek.