making eye contact with a fly
he sees me
eye sees I
he’s grinding his arms,
one slim pick over the other
I’m watching a speck of dust
floating slowly downwards in a ray of light
your children will know your name no better
than mine will know mine
we have that in common, we both can find the measure
and the breadth of a moment in time
I am drawing your facade with the reflection
from my pen on a plank of wood
I leave no marks, which seems more true
reduced to our essence
we reach towards one another without arms,
hands, or tongue, we float lazily, in loops and swirls
disturbed by the slightest breath
you can see everyone that way
you can see what you’re made of
illuminated in beams and drifting in and out
covering the countertops and the lampshades
sticking to your clothes and curtains
running up your nose
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