My world is each changeling
stroke, a god’s
blue breath. Where clutches end,
nothing much to grasp.
My skin shines
like melted pennies.
That’s how the light is on watch.
Eternity is incremental. A mouth-
to-trough existence is simple.
Our regard for each other a series
of seconds raring
to stare and stare. Narcissistic?
Not for me to say. All is blood gain,
fib by fib. I wonder, hot-bladed “loon,”
are you one such bit of marginalia,
a pattern of foxfire scat strewn
wherever I turn? Love of pleasure wakes
you, copper-steeped,
startled with disgust.
About Stephen Massimilla
Stephen Massimilla is a poet, critic and painter. His latest book, The Plague Doctor in His Hull-Shaped Hat, is forthcoming as a contest winner from Stephen F. Austin State University Press. His collection Forty Floors from Yesterday received the Bordighera Prize, and Almost a Second Thought was runner-up for the Salmon Run National Poetry Book Award judged by X.J. Kennedy. Other awards include the Grolier Prize, a Van Renssalaer Award judged by Kenneth Koch, and three Pushcart nominations. Massimilla received an MFA and Ph.D. from Columbia University and teaches at Columbia University and the New School.
