The Brooklyn Mona Lisa

Her mouth lay perpendicular on the bed
her breath spilled saffron

I was in the quadrangle
cold segments reached the sea

when I finally ordered tautologies
my palms refused

love is sizeable you see
tossing its pupils about

the inner eye lost in a wilderness
wants only chains and electrical outlets

be that as it may
desire will not shield you from hard objects

in the morning her mouth
turns into an inexplicable smile