Poem For My One-Legged Lover, the Wine Glass, No. 54

Poem for My One-Legged Lover, the Wine Glass, No. 54


Her glance
Stayed on the air
In my front yard.

The disembodied glance is flat,
Immobile,
But appears as
Three-dimensional,
Mobile.

I waited several weeks
For her glance
To have a face.

The face never appeared,
Her body never appeared.

But her bare feet appeared,
Her toenails
Were painted purple.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Unlikely Stories