[desire]

What is the warm sun
on your eyelids? Is it free?
Can I trust you? Does it matter--
mostly I just want to watch you.
Things are falling
apart, the Old and the New
World. I want
to know your real
name, the name before
your name. At night,
in the turbulent unknown
hour, have a drink
with me. But what is this heat
on your eyelids?
Our blood keeps going
somewhere mysterious.
It comes back, a migration,
a beehive pattern, a sublimated
bit of water. Is desire so circular?
The particles
are rioting, I am watching it
on television.
I am listening.
Rubbing your eyes,
disembodied hearts
float and flower