May 7, 2011 § Leave a comment

By Jeff Barnes

I want you
with the cast dovetail in your mouth,
perfect teeth, chain and crooked nose
below black lashes and Ionic falls
to tell me something, anything
of interest. Because your beauty interests
me. Lacquered your words so I can see
myself reflecting in you, Thank you,
as you speak about whatever it is your saying
now. It’s all softening. There are a thousand yous;
fingers, blinking, from straight on to slightly off
center. Additions for the one you-image stored on the backs of
my eyelids, red and black and white add blue,
like battery operated rose petals or something equally used
to suggest my enduring fancy
struck: and I still have no clue what you’re saying,
but you’re smiling, which makes me smile
on the outside. This is all I need from you.
You are mine forever. You will exist in my
world as the thousand other yous do
doing what you always do. Softening.
A steppingstone kiosk leading to the next you
and the next you may very well be the way back to you.
Who knows.


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