Behind the glass that cages pottery
"Jarlet With Color Blotches And Nipple Feet"
your eyes steal my gaze.
I circle the ancient jar, but so do you
and glass remains between us.

I wish the glass were a table outside
the museum cafe, with Cinzano umbrellas,
pink roses and poppyseed cake.
I want to laugh loose the petals of my dress.
I want coffee cups to turn into glasses of champagne.

Chinese vases are shaped for their contents;
rice pots are not filled with wine.
Are you the man your face contains?
You point to chrysanthemums
in a vase painted with chrysanthemums.

My inner ears hear delicate clinking
as windows change to windchimes
and I flush like the jarlet with nipple feet.

Published in South Coast Poetry Journal