It is too deliciously quick.
No time
To plot a course of words to
follow,
Only that second to fall
into the flame
Of her wide iris, knowing
that she knows
You know. Then it is gone.
Did you smile? Did she?
Why does no trace of her
face remain
In your mind, even while
your body heats
Reliving that flickering
penetration?
We who’ve been married a
score of years
Admit our lovers’ eyes with
a warmth. Still
There is a coolness in these
glances that bears
Willingly with a calm that
old love fills,
But for young men who still
believe in Eden
The invitation of the eyes
burns Heaven.
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