my strength becoming wistful in a glib
girl i consider her a leaf
thinks
of the sky, my mind takes to nib
-bling,of her posture. (As an eye winks).
and almost i refrain from jumbling her
flesh whose casual mouth’s coy rooting
dies also. (my loveFist in her knuckling
thighs,
with a sharp indecent stir
unclenches
into fingers….she too is tired.
Not of me. The eyes which biggish loll
the hands’ will tumbling into shall
—and Love ’s a coach with gilt hopeless wheels mired
where sits rigidly her body’s doll
gay exactly perishing sexual,