I Take Her Tresses In

I take her tresses in,
and search for wordless logos
in a modest breasted robin.

I unhinge myself from nature,
I step into my eye,
let the goldfinch be my fingers.

One iota of experience
couldn't jacket me in ennui
like a sacred difference.

The logo comes to me
and I drown it in insight,
so as not to see.

Oh! but touch is the azure wings
of the magpie, doing precisely
magpie things.

Copyright © 2007 Mike Luke All rights reserved
from Lambeth Magazine
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission