By Andrew Dinsmoor, Senior Staff Writer
You move in and out of me
with your words. My obsession
used to be hair loss or a few extra pounds
around my waist. It was the star
in your eye that distracted me from the dark
hole in myself. It was bright like
a titanium waterfall in August. A distraction
from compulsion. No more head pains or mysterious
lumps under my skin. Phthalates, radiation—
the worries of our life here in the 21st century—
all benign. All veiled from my eyes
by the glimmer in yours, like
a burning church during the first snow of December
that is smothered with gallons of water, being
pumped from a thick hose, like
little hurricanes thrown at a resilient city.
