The first time I undressed
you spoke in syllables.
You said I looked like David
standing at the Accademia
wearing nothing but marble
like the moon.
You watched my body harden
then moved towards the window
and pulled the shade down.
I saw the first chaos
-the one that made the universe-
flash from your eyes as you walked by.
I never want you to see me again.
No. I want to remain the image
of the barefoot boy by the window
eternally burned in your pupils.
DQ 3/14/09
