for Luigi
Were your lips not pierced by breath
Or mark and madness tattooed upon your face
I might have thought you a Ken doll
The way your hands are cupped and caught
The way you gather goods pinched in lobster claws
And scoop like salad tongs the chattels of your life.
Emerging in three dimensions
As mimicked model, half your age
Intellectually fecund, dashingly dapper
Steadfastly determined to face another day
Ceasing yet to smile upon the world
To save one less heart from breaking.
No comments:
Post a Comment