The Nature of the Frog

you cut from my body, a boat for you  
to cross a lake as warm as bathwater  
I used to drown in its isolation.    
The curvature, my arching promenade  
carried us to the middle of the pool,  
the point where you saw what was behind you   
circled round that hole to the other side.   
Lady on the farthest shore. It was she.   
I watched the soft beguilement of platinum  
reflection deep within eyes I remember  
still, the way they turned so naturally towards  
its origin, a curved lantern on shore.  
The light was the only one that did glow.  
mine was a pocket blue flame, much hotter  
but only used to heat the end of one  
extremely long and thin, clear Pyrex pipe.  


Your scorpion's sting shot tar so thickened  
and now, with the weight as my guide, I cut  
the strings that tied me to my god, Pleasure,  
the one we once worshiped together. 

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