An eye for an eye fleecing.
In conversation, eyelids betray
eyes prone to maximalist
searching. Between them,
in the god forsaken mess, a sight
for sore eyes can rest there.
One eye winks. Another eye
offers a terse smile, as all
eyes release the gimmick.
A trite liquid banquet.
Mettle, a tried and true
tourniquet, has broken.
Merriment recovers its merry
way, goaded by unbearable
splendor. Unhurried and decent,
a third eye stewards a chosen
Trojan horse. Both eyelids and
eyes are untoward, leaning
forward. A leak made waterfall.
There's more and more yet
none meets the eye. And the last
one to cry is quite gracious,
allotting time for its brine
to eavesdrop.
