Sun rouses me, calls me to the window
where she stains low-hanging clouds like tea
steeping in boiled water.
I feel fat with love today

after waking from a uncanny dream
where streets lined with radiator brush trees
led me, Panglossian to have been seduced on a Friday,
to you.

While sun leaps softly out of the tree tops
and plays an angelic note or two, and seagull wings
beat the grey tapestry to rid it of dust,
I wear him

like a cashmere scarf that I have to wash by hand
to keep it lint free.
When I start feeling a little full of myself,
I remind myself that I must POP!

Swelling like a warm loaf, this day
is already an eager jumble of hand and tongue
salving him, the subject,
the depicted object in the mind of an artist.

But it won’t do, I cannot
contain his boundaries, we are not
one, and I
cannot lay him down.

20 thoughts on “Cathexis

  1. Feels wrong to hang on one line of a poem this wonderful all the way through, but “Panglossian to be seduced on a Friday” is something only you could come up with! πŸ’œ

    Liked by 1 person

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