We envision a baby each time we make eye contact,
futures are constructed, eye-to-eye progeneration.
Your eyes always say that you want to fuck me –
they’re too articulate to be speaking accidentally.
Each Sunday we scan the congregation, first thing –
to locate each other is the first prayer we’re praying.
Every time I fear this time you might not be there,
Heaven is when I find you and your eyes have found me.
We’re long past playing games or being shy about it
Our ritual has become loud as a secret glance can get.
Sometimes I’ll pass right by you, or you’ll walk right by me,
aglow in Eucharistic bliss, our eyes meet and share the spirit.
