kill eternity?
not even, since
i still desire
scalding, liquefied love:
coffee smoke spouting from
a deep, vast, mocha-made ocean,
after graduate schools of happy fish
squirm, then kiss;
needlepoints
in brilliant ice,
as another berg
reaches room temperature
and cleaves
from her mother glacier.
every joy is perhaps
really just the woman with
the long hot story.
