i float from desire
to need to want to
desire.
i’ve fed myself
fat and salt
and carbohydrate and
fiber, now i demand
sweet.
what is this
I
that dwells
inside us,
demanding?
not even our deities
ask so much.
this morning a woman
offered me her ocean,
asking me only for my time.
desire swelled, taking
time into the growing
cavern of its mouth.
need kept me
anchored, while time
unspooled its line.
soon desire fades.
want rising up
in its place.
i mix metaphors, moving
between the moving
skin of ocean and
the imperceptible motion
of garden floor.
Spring flower blossoms
from the spring of
fecund soil;
a floating wooden boat
rides atop
ungraspable ocean,
in interchange of control.
the ocean allows me
to feel some
measure of control over it,
just as the garden
accepts the seeds we
scatter and sow.
a brisk walk
in snow-filled wind
took me
from my morning ocean
swim. i
placed buoys out
alongside my body, hoping
they might offer me
some small relief.
i continue
careening into rock
of want, sigh
of need, soil
of desire.
a wooden table supports
my hands, and asks
my back to curve
towards hunch.
a bag of chocolate
in a cupboard at my back,
beckons me to sit straight.
push back your chair,
open me up.
you want
sweet so sweeten
yourself with me.
i drink warm tea
with a full belly,
an emptied libido.
desire conspires
with want and need.
mirthfully, they set
themselves along my path.
a conduit does not seek
that which it conveys.
these words are not mine,
yet i seek them.
i am too thick to be
hollow. too solid to be
spoken through.
a dense mind grows
ripe on its own suffering,
it begs to be opened,
hollowed. released.
i’ve spent much
of my life begging,
perhaps all i’ve needed
to ever do is casually ask.
it’s been there all along.
you’ve always had it.
pray if you
like. meditate.
exercise.
but what you seek is
not outside of you. never
something that needs
taking by force.
if you need reassurance,
softly, you can ask.
gently, you
will begin to accept.
zakschafer.com 