Oh, cast out Vanity, come back!
I can barely smell your presence
Where are you hiding? Show your face,
Show your ass, let me press my ear to your chest
And study what might flow through your mirror-glass heart
And then let us repair to the boudoir
Where I can witness the spectacle of your
Miraculous edge, your bowl of swirling nasturtiums,
Your wall vase filled with narcissi,
Flowers of the lower-caste’s depiction of love,
Theorems brought to light from Asian underworlds
And then to the pond out back
Trembling with catfish and we’ll
Roll our eyes back into our heads until our
Unseen pupils tremble, fluttering with the ripples
Of the oversexed pond and the moths that flap as
Dusk arrives in their craven approach to the fireflies
That begin to appear in your proximity in swarms as if
To expose your ruddy complexion throughout the night
That you may never disappear
I am an invisible giant in your presence
Held captive by the intoxication that blows from beyond
Just in the direction of your precious garden filled with blooming roses
Our desolation of riches knows no bounds
Ribbet! Ribbet! go the concupiscent frogs splaying their legs wide
As each leaps into the pond in an attempt to cool their bellies and groins
The catfish swoop and sway at the surface just to meet the frog-flesh
Their madness is my madness, my obsession with you is a mirror
Of the surface of your pond
Oh, if you could lift your eyes to see me, try, try,
As if I were one of your bedroom mirrors,
But nothing, especially not me, takes you from this
Cacophony with which you are one—and I,
Rising, am left alone, myself, to wallow in sorrow
