• I.

    I have drawn my face on yours
    your eyes are my eyes looking at you
    They must be disconcerting--
    my pair of accidental supplicants.


    II.

    I screwed up--I don't know how--
    to draw the dazzle of candlelight being and sunny dream.
    Call again. Demand.
    The flawed portrait is like a discarded daisy--
    and I can do better if you want me to.


    III.

    To call it love is arrogant so I won't--
    You make a pretty picture and more than that too--
    I think of you and my thoughts are divine--
    My ideal--sorry for idealizing you--
    The more you placate, the more I worry--
    I won't call it love but I enjoy pleasing you,
    Like a green fruit I pray I'll
    swallow dirt and gift only sweetness to you
    My pencil slips a hundred times like a frustrated tongue--


    IV.

    This would not be a poem if it weren't about you.