In your look the sunset
becomes a mirror.
In a matter of seconds
sky and illusion will crack.
Under strain I count the moments
and weigh up the inexplicable feeling.
Unrepentant am I. I know, because, look,
I can understand seduction
only as a lucky find in time.
But I can’t make any sense of it
because it in turn
favours the shortest conclusion.
It ends in an inconceivable beauty.
Unrepentant like me.
A beauty of familiar traits.
How else could I possibly admire it,