I want to be the one
That fills up your
Polaroids
Those polaroids
You keep hidden
In your drawer
That show me
Sitting on the bed
Bare backed
In the sunlight
From the open window
With my head turned
Looking at you

I used to follow your spinal column
like there were stilts to keep you
from falling into the waves that
kissed your toes like you were king.
at times, i could taste your thoughts
through the nerves, textures like
gravel and rough barriers.
they never came down for me,
but sometimes, every once in a while,
you let my body creep into the
community offerings.
to you, it was a step forward,
but i saw it as a diagonal diversion
to keep me quiet.
and quiet i would be.
but know that you'll never get even
the desert queen with your dry wells
that used to hold love and ancient
history of how the waves once
knocked you over. how once,
you thought of me as

beautiful.

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
  Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
      Of beauty—the unhidden heart—
      The playful maziness of art
  In old Alberto’s daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks—
  Which glistens then, and trembles—
Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
  Her worshipper resembles;
For in his heart, as in thy stream,
  Her image deeply lies—
His heart which trembles at the beam
  Of her soul-searching eyes.