Sphinx

Those somniferous eyes
emit stares that ply ripples in creases of space
and commute them:

Opaquest repose full of gossamer silence.

Pay attention: such ineffable presence
is pure and unmoulded,
unlike the canvass of human relations,
by chatter and things.

Just let it infect you.

This presence: it circles the skin
and the moments it holds can actuate matter;
it’s the intractable silence of snow upon snow.

So don’t move a muscle.

But impatience dispels it, disturbance, disowned;
its truth never coming can’t lie in the future.

Look: the unblemished antennae of children...

with no poles for dilution
so have I deserted if I haven’t endured?

What import it has?
Your babel of fur an
ideal of perfection not adequately
held by your miniature body;
if it were you’d be larger
than any vacuum in space.

Then your head hung: despair
Say, which memory has dethroned you, stung you to stasis
Incursions of father, exhortations of mother
The simulacra of youth, or
The home you once spoiled?
But what ails you is secret, you must not disclose.

Opaquest repose full of gossamer silence.