In my mermaid eye, I

become an eyelid. lidded

glass in the little waves -- skip, skip -- the heart

has it's two halves, it's beloveds, those

internalized twins of kissing. Who

will whisper, pine siskins zipping

threads for trees, little whiskers

on the hillside, over ever water.

All along, I wondered. Your eyes

don't look at me. I mean: Don't

look at me! How raw to be seen --

to be realized. Once I was invisible:

I wanted to be seen. But now I think -- NO!

Let me let you look at me. Let me.