'Go, for thy stay, not free, absents thee more'

I now begin to understand the gap between some gaps,
And the way that some are dreared, and others
Can't weigh down at all.

It depends what's being stared at, I think I clock it now,
Like an underbelly dancing on a kitten or the pad
Of a spider in a readverted glass.

And if the grapnel has attached to definite repast
Then a gulf of week or hours is only a varied step,
If the eyes that lit up parting can prolong that mutual suck,
Like a purring Aztec idol licking up obsequined blood,
Then well - but if you look on long at the retreating head
And it sinks in that the head replaced the eyes and will be eve -

Lie through singular warm ages when you needn't quite be there,
More there then than when poising on that farewelled immanence.
If you said in fourteen lifespans you would come straight back for sure,
What a warm-drink haze of waiting could be boiled up and borne.