Research: Journals
The Journal, Issue 30.2
Poetry: "Eye-Fucked"
by Catherine Wingfor CW, the younger
You were just my candy, sweet-tart,
a skittle in the corner of the bar.
I caught you with a dance
and swung you on a star.
You were Mr. Good,
a hard-headed-honey that I bit
while on the beach under a wink
of moon. Soon even the waves
exchanged their tune—a snicker
for a swoon. Is the question:
did we swim or did we sink?
Were we suckerfish who struck out
on the sand? (Did we let things
get in and out of hand?)
Or was it just the glint of a passing
disco-eye-ball that cast its spark
and shadow before leading me
down your hall? Help me dove,
my dog-and-pony show's
all laced up in a licorice whip.
Is the flicker of an eye all that love
is made of? A fickle blink of
sweet and spice, just a hint
of lark? Love, I made my eyes for you,
and you, love, you keep
this retina in the dark.
