Usually after sex br I watch you glide over the mirror br Watch you covet yourself a bit br As your fingers slide beneath your hair br From crown to collar br And watch you run br The thick, black length of a thought br Clenching such soft wisps, br To pull the ends in fistfuls br and smoothen out the darkness. br I watch your head tilt, br Your hip meets an elbow, br And you turn yourself into one big, pressing br Question mark of flesh. br br I sit in the chair in the back br Sunken in an earthy seclusion br To rise by a thought- br Watching the slow shifting metronome br Of the back of your thighs br Feeling entranced, br Wondering for a moment, br If I’d seen you differently.