If you were, then, like a snake
or some other animal to turn
on me. If you could
like an animal only speak
through mimes and gestures
and movements. If we all laid
down our cocktails and agreed,
this was where the line must
be drawn, no day without
a line drawn. I could display
myself along those lines,
but have no more desire
to be spectator to that display,
given the flaccidity, mushroom
pallor, general mopishness
and lack of spine, than
you. Your eyes are not
topaz, half-turning in the half-
light. Like a snake
rotating, cold scales
measured out across the room.
Is one always helplessly in love,
or is there such a thing
as calculated entrapment, half-
love in the half-light, love lite?
Writhe like a snake, turn
on me, flip me like
a switch. Off and on.