Stare

Stare

Your gaze is coarse

Like line-dried linens

Sweet-smelling and

Sun-warm but rough to the touch

You strip me of verbs

And use them to

Skin me, pepper me with your pupils

And sear my being

With heavy nouns I blush to utter

But I return your gaze

Resolutely

As an insolent child stares down the sun.