I                                                     DSC_0052



I want it.

The eyes want it.

The ayes want it.

All in favor, say “Aye.”

All opposed, I see it in your eyes.

The “I”

Is told in your eye.

Even though you utter “aye,”

Your eyes will deny,

And it’s clear that the “I”

Shall supersede the aye.

Aye, it’s in your eyes.

“I” overpowers aye.

I pull through.

Eyes look through.

Ayes come through.

While you look at me, and listen,

Your eyes focus inward, forming

The argument that shall dispel the aye

As you calculate and cultivate your

Sentence planned around “I.”

Eyes dart

From side to side.

They avoid, avert, divert.

The pupils constrict,

Doubling in on themselves time

And again to mere pinpricks

Of secretive disagreement that are

No secret at all.

I am tired.

Your eyes look tired.

The ayes have retired.

No longer in support of

The plan that could carry the day,

The eyes lurk darkly in the half shadows,

Waiting, focusing, sensing the opportune

Moment to say, “I will not!”

Can I get past my eye with an “aye”?

© September 2009, Michael E. Stubblefield.  All rights reserved.



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