Beloved, who does not love me,
if I couldn’t see you across a room
I’d search you out through a window pane,
or dream of our first meeting if walls or miles
cheat my eyes.

Your breathing intimidated, as she yawns.
Before the ice of your contemplation
my humbled genius trembles.
The outline of your long browned northern body
stretches like a cat. I seek my perfect other.

That gaze inhuman,
not living

yet virginal.