Friday, February 6, 2015

His Eyes, or Then Again...



It’s his eyes, she said, his eyes,
the upper lid’s arch of symmetry,
delineated by the blacker arc of brows,
ink-defined in careful calligraphy,
to say watch here what is framed below,
to say here is where the world begins,
beneath this sensuous snake of night,
bedded under black-lace lashes,
straddling what we know will rise.

The bottom lid decides its own way,
to rise from medial commissure
as lids join against the nose, to dip
in a sweep that splashes us beneath
the hazel-sun iris rising on our ride,
heads thrown back, the rush of warmth
in his breezy, sun-flecked gaze,
prairie-stretched, plunged into long-grain,
gold-heat, laid-in-the-meadow summer.

It’s those eyes, she said …
or,
then again, those lips …


by Patricia J. Esposito, author of  Beside the Darker Shore
GLBT Bookshelf Review

Goodreads Review

0 comments:

Post a Comment