With gentle, geometric gratitude,
The anxiety that lives in her eyes reclines.
A little fishing village stocks her mood
With coffee beans and butter. History mines
The past on screen for suitors, hesitates…
Her eyelashes protest; there’s porphyry
In her desires. Mine draw figure eights
Observing her through time’s periphery.
Philippa sings; my baby’s lips obsess
Me. Babette comes to Jutland; baby’s brow
Gains tender powers only gods possess.
I’d pay ten-thousand francs to freeze right now,
When her expression lacks commodities
Film lovers love in the best comedies.
