Stars: Flat, Blue, Large Stars. Nothing

Her hand trembles, unlike the stars,

And hair creeps down her neck in flat

Dead waves. Around her eyes is blue

Paste intended to make them large

And deep, like space around the stars.

Her pupils dilate upon nothing.

She dresses neatly, being well

Brought up. Her speech is bright, she knows

The tongues and jargons. Dead between

Each stimulus and her loving

Response, a pane of glass freezing

Her eyes must break. The skin

Between her thighs is soft. So are

Her arms, her belly, nowhere is any

Hardness. I wish I had some other

Subject for a poem. Where are

The fathomless, where are the first

Resorts that never seemed enough?

Structure

18 lines · 3 stanzas