I look best in these judgments
worn daily like starched, ironed shirts.
We have painstakingly prepared our expectations
all the while knowing the parade would miss us.
You look best in my judgments
and I feel most naked beneath yours.
Entwined naked limbs, moist in judgment.
Poems written from a bird’s eye view
of things requiring careful inspection.
So much simpler to judge
and be judged
when removed from luminescence
but expecting and waiting,
eyes open, hungry,