Empty body of laughter
in pretty strands
worn with contempt
strings to bait the fiery ceiling
eye-holes positioned
in the prison of staring and
being stared back at
the thuggish drama of human longing
staked at the expense of insight
feinting at humor with insincerity
tying hoses into a pretzel
and calling the sparks
and spurts they emit
lovemakings of pure spirit
the cool chair small and distant
in the center
not beseeching,
not making action faces,
provision of space and silence
music without language
the last calling.