[For three hours seven minutes]

For three hours seven minutes

She was my landscape of desire.

American, small, rounded of feature

Legs like silk, ribboned by her skirt

At mid-thigh, crossed or stacked

Like paired pods.

Our eyes, in that longtime, never met.

Hers moved, black orbs, from face

To book, or hid beneath her lids

Biding the journey’s end.  Her hands

Calm, lay still upon her lap, or

Lily like, on arms stem, held the book