MONSTER

They say his eyes are green;
yet mine have browning sheen
They say his touch is cold;
but my heart is warm if never bold
They say he shrouds it all in night;
for me you're always bright.

Then where lives he?
The vault of the skull dome or
some other place maybe
filling the liquid life with ice-fire
dancing in the mire.

Yet it has what form -
They never could agree those love forlorn,
Save for eyes
that stare from within in cinder-sight
and in doubt flies.

Good or bad this monster then?
I cannot say he ever changes when
the world like crazéd glass turns
his mirrors never smashed
and his bond never burns.

Nice

ej