[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