I Spread Your Book Cover Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I'm spreading your book cover
over my eyes
& pronounce some blind feelings
about your poem.

Wow,
I see one notable observation
of the woman lurking in the ashtray.
What is it? Cinder art?
You read ashes now?

And the other that stands out
is gender-limiting
of the book cover business.
I mean who could be those people
but men
who alone are capable of wrapping
their fish smell in newspaper
unless you include
the gentler sex that reads dust jackets
folded between their fluttering wings.

Well, friend,
since you are maybe not dear yet,
may I ask what the rosemary flavoring
in the title of your poem
has got to do with your tale?