John Alunan
The space between your eyes
A hieroglyph, a presaging ghost,
The marrow disk of a lotus
A down of hairs so fine
Only a spinet could have laid them.
I cannot bare the color
Of the sea when still.
The parapets of packed sand
With their clam shell windows
That look on, white as a hospital.
Birds shatter against you
Like specimen slides
And your arms imposingly woven
Waiting for the pneumatic chalk
To settle and proclaim
One of us forfeit
mindlovemisery 