"Lost Love" . . . © Michael Weston 1996

5 in. x 7 in. Black & White Silver Gelaten Print
image on 11 in. x 14 in. paper


Poem by Norah Vincent

I watch the cold beauties
walking in the park,
standing at the fountain
with their ankles crossed.
Women,
whose hips of curves
weaken and conspire against me.

God please!
To rest my head there.

The invitation to dance.

I made them queens
of my resentment
and to their desires
I entrusted my thoughts.
There, they are willing to receive me,
and I, to comply.

Ohhh---
to lapse my bestowing tongue
in the sullen violet pools of your clavicle,
wrap indecencies awhile in your pretense,
dribble new white kisses
in the cool recesses of your heels,
and bind open
the bastion of your arms.

I adore you
bravely from here,
and that, for me,
is why you exist,
to lavish far gifts,
and remain
as simply deserving
as you are unknown.

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