revised poem

 Notions of You

If I saw your eyes so large and sharp,

I’d keep an eye open and hope like a kid

for the surprise—the scintillation coupled with

the firing of your smile,

turning the moment sterling

like a sudden ray of sun

over an ocean’s morning mind.

Though maybe you’d be blithe to mine;

and perhaps I’m too old and deep—

still I’d love to teach you mountains I’ve climbed,

and revel in your interpretation

of such a union.

My imaginings would yet to comprehend

the core of your beauty,

and ways fraught with wandering would stop—

even a good movie or an

Impressionist exhibit

couldn’t take my mind off you.

I would like to lie with you;

and look into your eyes;

to feel us together, neck-moist,

and to kiss your lips as best I can;

to smell your hair, wet with sweat,

wanting to do whatever you wanted.

And after, in settling repose,

where side by side we’d decide

what color particular numbers were,

or immediate steps to

best affect the world; finding

within this separateness the

sweetest of gifts: lover and friend.

Where growing to know intimacy

would make one wonder whether

life was meant for such pleasure;

I want to hear you whisper in my ear

so severely, I feel like the second movement

to Beethoven’s seventh:

not lonesome, though alone and longing.