Mizuka's Loop

Drops her gaze
Mizuka, violently indolent
holding tight a loop
between her legs and her mind's I
tense, demeaning and
ever scheming how
to be a star, or
at least, how to cut one down to her size.

In the glicine milk and honey of
her extremities, those she whispers to
at night – time, there: what
novel cross did she find?
Set on her weight like grave(l)stone
caressing the stove's black eyes
(her parents away) fixing dinner
for two, three counting her
accruing body strings of flame.

Mizuka's loop is both
loved and accursed, both
wonderful and wondering.
It approximate möbiuses
the mind and the mind's I.