left you blank as a pronoun (david)
wanted your back turned (concrete statuesque words yes)
so that your delicate ear would not be offended by
my need to be spied upon.
the delicious thrust of the verb. my metaphors are
the dark hairs of your arm ( near me)
No, on me. Unavoidable.
I will count them countless as if
by this stab
I could know you (direct)
object of love (?)
My failure sweats and runs on endlessly…