i s a w y o u w e i g h i n g y o u r g o l d b e h i n d t h e c u r t a i n
T O M D E V A N E Y
The glint of golden glints travels
as fast as talk of sex. I just wanted
to tell you I love when you tell dirty
stories like I wasn't listening.
After two months of no work, sleep-in
when you should be looking.
Make love, books and head noises.
The morning streets, high red brick
smoothed soft by years of direct light.
Beauty doesn't own a brush.
Won't wash a knife with a wooden handle.
Won't say it understands when it doesn't.
Astounds even Brooklyn.
Fool if you think it's over.
© crossconnect 1995-2002
published in association with the
university of pennsylvania's
kelly writers house