His Eyes

There are fluttery kicks I have come to expect

When I feel the daggers he shoots from his eyes,

So sharp, I think “piercing” is the word that I use,

Since I’ve yet to find one to better describe

How difficult it is to meet such a gaze,

How, when I do, I lose all of my mind

To shivers and quakes and the rumbling roar

Of falcons that fly right out from my spine.