SIXTY MINUTES
                     
                     Locks and tendons and yawing gaps
                     creep slipshod to a wedded plunge
                     of sentimental bliss and empathy.
                     Someone feels for you,
                     (hung and half reels for you)
                     over inviolate curves,
                     trapped between the walls
                     of hip and world,
                     the lower strata - upper strata fantasy.

                     Nature could dare steal back;
                     so sweet a thing could flourish,
                     seize all hope beyond recrimination.
                     Someone gives for you !
                     the illusion grandeur takes to you,
                     between sixty seconds
                     of sixty minutes
                     one could fall in love.

                     For the hour has sparse
                     left its minute dangling
                     past the moment
                     past the watch on your wrist,
                     another takes to you
                     at equidistant points
                     between porcelain and chin
                     over nacre smooth teeth
                     and haunting eyes.

                     One could collapse into rain
                     huddled over mud-slick earth,
                     over flesh and loving,
                     over uncensurable pain
                     rewound to a shower
                     of breath and lips
                     that plant an old crop,
                     tills a new field,
                     sews a new way.
 .

David's other works