Over and Over

 

the moment is fleeing itself,
scared of its own deflection
looking into the pond
out of the pond, siren song,
islets scattered with eyelets
shells borne of seasickness
a vessel emptied, clear glassy ides
marching towards a frail old secret
buried pleasure
of broken tongues
cooled flames of mild temper
sacrificial lamb risotto
spurned, scorned, and soured
as if you look past me, through me,
what do you see?