Magnetia

My pulsing
iris: what pulls
you now?
The charm of lip:
chump change
to this.

His torso
wider than deep,
more diagonal
than that.
I’m dizzy over
hair, a fan
of his combing.

Damn desire.
I can’t stop staring.
Starry and falling, I am
forward-sinking
and seeing more
than something.

Looking is
like licking.
The one time
I can’t talk.
A clock, a face, I’m
noon, an oh oh, an
exultation that lacks
language. Excision
of my mouth.