Glance, oh wayward fascination

Glance, oh wayward fascination, to glance again, and linger there, where her look, with wisp, with will, gives a deft blow of uncertain pose. Yours is the eve of infatuation, swiftly suppressed. Hers is a likeness too close, too close to the original uncertainty— unbelievable, inaccessible, unreal.

26 January 1977