In Awe and Expectation
For a split moment, I see you through those overlapping thick clouds,
A big eye-white of Cyclops,
And I keep on walking, head down for most of the time,
Looking at anything looming clearer and blurred from three feet ahead of my tiptoes.
You know I cannot help but peep
At the milky cleavage; and I know you do not try to hide your sneer.
I have tied myself up with the dodder of my inner voice,
A puppet being worked on by its own legs.
And you, you’ve long grown tired of this, right?
So tired that you do not even bother to stop anything that is moving.
I am left alone, my body playing with my soul,
And occasionally I dare a stare at the sky, hoping that you’ve just taken a squint at me.
April 4-5, 2009