historical inevitabilities a.k.a. cowardice

i. object
this body’s ocular reflex follows the line of sight
named Direct Diversion when it meets you;
in skin, in flesh, the curves that swathe your arms
like vines cultivated to flow into Brown Brothers Moscato (1999),
sweet on the tongue on a cool Australian night.

ii. biconvex thin lens
i am a drop of water in search of valleys to call home.
your elbows lie in asymmetrical triangles on the tabletop.
i am a drop of water in search of valleys to call home.
i am a drop sliding down your skin,
thirsty for so much more.
when i fall into the dip along your sternum
(fast, clumsy loss of footing, taken by

                                                                   Surprise!)
Direct Diversion flings my
plunging state out,
out,
out,
and into the ground.
tongue races across lip.

it must have been gravity.

iii. parallel to principle axis
mind and body abide by this subliminal law in view
of your textual footfalls; fly from light captured in
varying depths of imprints in the soil
under my feet. feet that have assimilated the
             now-grassless path of scent trails to –
stumble, freeze, sprint to anywhere but –

iv. focal point
regret is the optical focus when dams open again.
floods of relative aridity swim in as replacement,
everything is flat; everything is colourless,
and where rays converge in the beginnings of images
draw the waning glimpse of –
yes,
should have committed to memory
should have drunk in, devoured, succumbed to carnal voracity,
should have –

v. virtual image

                         it must be blasphemy to stare at someone so beautiful.

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