a pain like a sharp tack
on a corkboard, and there was no
answer coming from the mass of tan matter
that was comforting
or easy to understand. I was shut
out of a piece of you I treasured most:
an inimitable congregation of tiny glances,
parted lips, and small electric pulses
from your fingertips. I could find
no reasonable explanation for my loss
and we went on, inexorably, till finally
you came back and danced the elegant
sonata of us; and I felt a green part
of your joy travel from your tongue
to my lips, in a simple, sensual, quiet demure.
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