Now,
there is the contour of her upturned forehead
nosetip kissed by the moonlight
and shadows frame the shape of her eyes
soft wrinkles at their tapered corners
And my god, the color of them
I stare, squint
A misty night, but they are distinct even in the dark:
bronze beads nestled into slight furrows
gossamer, reflecting starlight.
The sweep across the peppered sky that we stand beneath
Chestnut disks floating in milky spheres
unmistakably hers
full and round, soaking in curiosity
handsome mahogany irises bound by the gold tracing their edges.
The way the light makes those disks look glassy
Semitransparent in the moon’s glow
How they shed their boundaries
shifting, swimming
layers on the eyelid horizon
They shimmer, and stir.
And now,
they rest their gaze on me.
I inhale
dare to step closer
The bustle in the back of my brain—
A hum, and the purr of pleasure at her beatitude.
