surely if i learn to impregnate my plate glass fish without
splitting it apart at the invisible seams, if i coddle my ichtheous
amour, if i polish this aquatic alembic, if i bring this glassy
womb of bent light rays to full term
what cannot i do with a mere woman
if i apply my mind?
passion slithers most fitly,
you concede,
when the occasion is less
than adequate to the emotion.
have i then focussed your fire upon me?
no,
you point out, with an adorable flicker of your dorsal,
but
you have cracked my silence.
(from
Impossible Loves)
