Pocket watch, I tick well. <br />The streets are lizardly crevices <br />Sheer-sided, with holes where to hide. <br />It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac, <br /> <br />A palace of velvet <br />With windows of mirrors. <br />There one is safe, <br />There are no family photographs, <br /> <br />No rings through the nose, no cries. <br />Bright fish hooks, the smiles of women <br />Gulp at my bulk <br />And I, in my snazzy blacks, <br /> <br />Mill a litter of breasts like jellyfish. <br />To nourish <br />The cellos of moans I eat eggs -- <br />Eggs and fish, the essentials, <br /> <br />The aphrodisiac squid. <br />My mouth sags, <br />The mouth of Christ <br />When my engine reaches the end of it. <br /> <br />The tattle of my <br />Gold joints, my way of turning <br />Bitches to ripples of silver <br />Rolls out a carpet, a hush. <br /> <br />And there is no end, no end of it. <br />I shall never grow old. New oysters <br />Shriek in the sea and I <br />Glitter like Fontainebleu <br /> <br />Gratified, <br />All the fall of water an eye <br />Over whose pool I tenderly <br />Lean and see me.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gigolo/
