Holding the magnifying glass to each
one, I study both sides' fibrous edges,
feel how they long for each other’s touch, reach
to interlock and meld again, pledges
of union in their jagged smiles, know how
their clipped lips curl if kept apart too long.
I slide them slowly side by side, like brows
of continents, realize longing’s wrong
to seek some perfect fit. Settle for seams
to please the naked eye. Yet under this
tight sight, I survey interlacing streams
and outlets, envision a single kiss.
I always seal them with clear solvents, eye
them under gentle lamplight till they dry.
Roger Armbrust
August 1, 2010
