Sunday, November 17, 2002

Your eyes gape hungry with

Your eyes gape hungry with desire,
curiosity and hope;
you lose yourself inside their fire,
spinning like an isotope.
Ochre walls embrace your person,
but you know you’re more than that -
Your tired heart contracts, so terse and
taciturn beneath your hat.

I ask you what you want.  You wonder
why your answer isn’t there.
If you are prey, who is the hunter?
If you would pray, would something care?
Mere honesty has never mattered;
now it is your currency.
I hope you see that I am flattered.
Now the rest is up to me.