Lines upon learning of the recent stipulation, by the pop artist Madonna, that any journalist wishing to complete an interview with her must maintain eye contact at all times

Gaze into the womb of eternity, punk, and don’t even think about blinking.
You are a spark that dances in the darkness of me.
Ha ha! Terrified, you shrink into my pupil’s dewy roundness.
Swim for your life — flutter that tiny sperm tail!
I am communing with you, shrimp. I am testing you,
and if you break this connection — interview over!
Do not consult your notes. Have you brought the evil eye?
The look of unfriendliness? Of negativity?
Turn it upon me, and I will swallow it in bottomless love.
Your questions must be memorized. Adoration knows no pause.
I’m sick of the flapping notepads, the “ums” and “ahs” and the head-scratchings.
I am Madonna, goddamn it!
Mess with my holy almighty womanhood
and quicker than a ray of light, I’ll fuck you up good.