Tag Archives: cyclops

Eyes Spy

I failed, though I tried
to look into her eyes —
both of them, you know,
like “He looked into her —”
Yeah, just like that. But I
found I could only see one.

Don’t get me wrong —
she had two, big and blue —
but I couldn’t split focus
to look at two once (both
simultaneously, not two
only one time. Get it?)

Where do you focus — on her
left side or right? What if your lines
of sight cross, crash, or collide?

How do they do it in romance novels?
Do all Fabio’s have lazy eyes? Maybe
we should call them “lover’s eyes” instead
of being creeped out every time
that we make eye half-contact.

Or maybe that’s the root
of the phrase: eye contact,
like a singular eye, where even
20/10 vision restricts your sight
line. Perhaps that’s how we Cyclops
Rock, undressed like cross-eyed
strangers:

                      Her two look at yours,
your two into hers, but never the both
at each other.

Every Girl is an Apple

Baby, can you read this mind?
Because I won’t say a word.
I’d rather hide myself inside
of this ruby-tinted world. But if you
looked behind these colored glasses,
you would find that darling, it’s not
love, it’s just another trick of the eye.

When I dream of Jean, prior to
the goblin Queen, it’s the thought
that counts on me to cheat.
But you will always find me in
this white hot room for three
keeping Frost and fire waiting
willing on their knees. You see,

every girl is an apple. Yes, every
girl is an apple. Every girl
is an apple in my one red eye.

Marvelous girl, let me enter
yours; I’ll show you mine. Just know
that I keep one foot out the door
and in her mind in a fantasy: I lose
control of you and then escape,
then when you’re gone I tell myself
that it’s too late because every girl

is an apple. Yes, every girl is
an apple. Every girl is an apple
in my one red eye,

                                           and if looks
could kill, then this could be love
-ly to see you again, in life
or ’til death do us part.