Poetica Spontenaium 5.25.02
Tremulous.
The meditations of my heart
seize me by the collar.
I know when I look into your eyes
I see the midnights of a thousand years
spill like the hair of a young girl
and shimmer, sharp, like obsidian.
And without doubt, I see myself in you
terrified that I’ve lost myself
except in their reflection.
Have I become small and have I lost dimension?
But I am inside of you. Am I even sure
I want to be here.
And before I can doubt again
the answer comes like a silk thread
gently pulled
up my throat to say
Yes.
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