Unmoored as you depart, my waves
Whirl out a pulsing mesh, patterned

On your groove, your angled form, hips
A turning beacon for your hands

Wringing me. I eddy and swirl
Sweet for your return. Juiced curves

Your honeyed gaze has wrought draw flies.
One looms and dives on what we’ve caught

With our own bare hands, not hers.
Despite professed noble intent

And invitation’s compliment,
Her quick net was only ever full

Of giant holes the shape of your eyes,
Your mouth my rushing current.


2 Responses to “Moiré”

  1. eduardo says:

    Oy vey, this poem has much the mesmerizing, hypnotic effect of a moiré. And quite the interlacing of explicit and implicit. Just enough succulent detail to lead each reader to their own detailed images.

    Also, as in another trance-eliciting bit of visual sorcery, the layers of this poem go on and on and on and on and… just as when you look in a mirror’s reflection of a mirror.

    Dual sensations: Oh my, I’ve so far to go…/Cool beans; lookit what’s possible!

    • wordweed says:

      Thanks, Eduardo. It’s good to hear that the images work to support the title, especially since the title came last! I have a writing practice with a friend in which we borrow a word or two from each other’s poem and work them into our own piece, and in this case, the title was one of those words.

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