POEMS BY ISAAC ROSENBERG
THE FEMALE GOD
We curl into your eyes—
They drink our fires and have never drained;
In the fierce forest of your hair
Our desires beat blindly for their treasure.
In your eyes' subtle pit,
Far down, glimmer our souls;
And your hair like massive forest trees
Shadows our pulses, overtired and dumb.
Like a candle lost in an electric glare
Our spirits tread your eyes' infinities;
In the wrecking waves of your tumultuous locks
Do you not hear the moaning of our pulses?
Queen! Goddess! Animal!
In sleep do your dreams battle with our souls?
When your hair is spread like a lover on the pillow
Do not our jealous pulses wake between?
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