Now let us go back to the stunning
sonnet
Now let us go back to the stunning
caress, beguiled by an eye’s emerald
cunning, even imagine murder
of our sleeping, significant other.
Let us imagine the other. Let
us consider his significance. And
now her absence. And now back to the
caress. The eye never knows what it sees.
In the distance, wilderness, a gold door—
This way or its contrary? Caress
of the new equals absence of the old.
Let us fall forward into a presence
that is not here, let us look inside our
own blindness, let us finally awake.