Voyeur I

I harbor two thieves,

Gilded and green with envy,

Who watch you through the veil of curtains

And shroud my final pleasure with their tears.

Those two thieves who watch you—

Who devour you with want—

Are two ivory blades, tearing away

Your modesty with every blink.

If only you knew, my darling, that my eyes—

Which are two, which are me, which are us—

Are the ones who despair each night

To etch your memory into my soul.

And late, when you appear, guileless and unaware,

As your clothes slowly drift away,

Those eyes of mine—those two, and I within them—

Spring to life; they flutter and take flight toward you,

Like two white doves in the heat of the chase…

…"

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