Selected Poems
Def Leppard had it right
It's strands of a few stray hairs
rise and fall like a raven's left wing
hover over your face, rest on your cheek
end in a curl under your chin.
Magic is imperfection becoming perfect,
The spell is darkness of your eyes gaze
cast slightly up and looking sideways
this way, that renders me, helpless.
Unseen by anyone, but me.
you smile at something no one
else will ever know. Your lips
open, but never tell. I melt.
I'm out of luck and out of love
just, this photograph, picture, of.
