HIS BROW A CONSTANT LINE ACROSS HIS FACE*

makes his deep-set eyes seem that much more recessed. But as 

we regard each other with unwavering gaze, I find I am 

swimming deep within brownish-black orbs, so like human 

eyes, I find it difficult – no impossible—to look away. Neither 

of us blinks for what seems the longest time. Finally, I risk 

bringing two fingers to my forehead – still not looking away—

then touch the same two fingers to my heart. A crowd has 

been watching us but I don’t realize it until I hear the chorus 

of “awwws” when the mighty silverback mimics my actions 

with his own. We continue gazing at each other, communing 

on a level it’s hopeless to try to explain.

*From E.Bachinsky’s poem Outcasts from the book Home Of Sudden Service.