The Kingdom of the Blind

Something very

Still and appreciative

The reflective cold face

The silent scarce hesitation

The thing in the cupboard

Of this unnatural restraint

Silent, incurious yet

Highly plausible

Fearfully bucked

Your little laugh greeting

The darkness in the room

A new invention

Kept in the shadows

To be sure of the one thing

Somehow detaching itself

In fascinating disorder

The movement, the lines

Of your body

Your abstractions

Are not ordinary ones

Might I call this afternoon

A question? Why not?

Am I usually a farceur

Departing from principle

Wait but a little longer

The pinnacle is arriving

Our speed is now nominal but

I wouldn’t like to tell you

What we can touch

If we are pressed