Self as an Eye

No, not those many snails,

That gnaw with a swan's foot below

Their trim and finished nautilus, prevail.

The shore, like an eye, dilates round their darkest no

To let night flow where it must flow.

While, yes, these few green swans

Snail, yes, more beautiful for leglessness,

Their vague opulence through a milky sense,

My eyes, like a narrowed shore are their most yesness.

Only a fist of tears can hold the sun.