Posts Tagged ‘desire’

of when your eyes connect with another’s

and heat jumps through your body

and you want to know them,

and you want them to know you;

you want them to want

to understand

like you want to

understand

them.

Where is the crossing

of the stars? Not Here,

as is desired-

Youths wish it’d appear-

 

though- Consequences

be neglected- Outcomes-

rarely what expected,

or what one dreams-

I had forgotten the feeling spring instilled in me-

a giddiness, the desire to move.

The desire to clean the dust off the bike no one rode,

and to fill the tires until their dark cheeks could burst,

and set out with the gravel crunching underneath,

the trees and fields passing as gray and yellow blurs.

 

I had also forgotten the scent of spring-

crisp earthiness spiraling up from the ground.

The sun pulls back the curtain of snow,

and the scent rises in spirals, the sun

helping it on its way.

This is what instilled in me

that sense of adventure, that desire

to move forward.

But when I go

out at night

and look at the stars,

my back presses against the snow

and I feel the feathery light touch

of the wind

and shiver,

and there’s shadowed white

on either side of me,

and only black-and-white night above,

yet all I can think about

is you

moving, or pulling me, closer

so we can try

to keep each other warm.

So, this is how you make my heart go-

a nonstop drum. Knots in my stomach

and blood rising to color my face.

At times it seemed like we were

the only people in the room,

and I smiled.

I smiled at the little things you did,

whether you noticed them or not;

I smiled out of nerves

because you were so calm, and I was not;

I smiled like a fool

because we talked, and you listened.

This is a new experience for me-

not the bundle of nerves under my ribs,

to which you give an electric shock;

not the reddening of my face,

but the happiness from something so simple

and how I don’t mind these feelings

and I surprise myself

by how much I want them to stay.

“As it has been said: 

Love and a cough

cannot be concealed.

Even a small cough.

Even a small love.” ~ Anne Sexton, Small Wire

                                *

Winter is the time I fashion clothes out of fire-

snow bites my cheeks so, and I feel

unloved. 

When desire comes about

I grab onto it, and hook it into my chest,

and knit warm and heavy shirts out of its thread,

and I burn red.

In Winter I am this

vulnerable beacon of burning love.

I am exposed to the elements.

The flames are in danger of going out,

I will be left naked in the cold.

But if I clutch the threads to my heart,

and if I invoke the name of my desired one,

my heart burns, and the fires roar;

though winds rage

I am protected by these flames.

I do not think of you at break of day,

the sunrise in its vivid orange holds

me so. I meet blazing sky with squinting gaze.

With passage of day I focus not on sun’s golds,

but on your hair: reminiscent of clay and bronze.

Your skin has been kissed by the zealous sun,

I envy it. Your eyes carry one hundred tons

of precious jewels, they glitter so. What’s to be done

when the sun’s passage turns my thoughts to you?

Am I to let this burning love fester?

Or should I loose the words, and then, know not what to do?

Sun, swallow me and let these thoughts pester

me no more! I would rather perish in flames

than go mad due to these wicked mind games.