Physics
Hungry as the rose
in an albino's eye,
my mind peeps tom,
two good pupils
suckle the gleam or rime
of limerance in the body of light,
as heavy, freaked photons
chair dance in the bounded curve
of her immense gravity.
Weighty things become energy
quoth the physicist,
and energy, sang Angel Blake, is eternal delight.
I, like Isaac Newton
only refine the equation and optics
reflecting the fractured colors
of Solomon and Sheba's
stone temple psalms.
Then, my brain huge with number
I retire to a virgin's bedroom
to read of that mighty lady, Babylon,
in the book of Revelations.
