Like A Hawk Poem by Stan Petrovich

Everywhere one goes
Eyes are drilling you like a hawk,
Looking for assymetry,
Disfigurements, enlargements,
Entanglements, perfection.

Every one looks
Eyes turn to you, or away.
Neither for a millisecond do they stay.
But the effects are engorging,
Annoying, exciting or displacing.

I once gazed at the corpse of my mother,
Who, peering it seemed high into the steeple,
Saw nothing except hazel.
But then I noticed something about her
I had never seen before:
Painless peace and superhuman
Repose.