Desire


You made me want a tomato.
The tomato made me want a basil leaf
and a room in the orchard.
I carried my want like a hummingbird
and let it go under the pine tree.
My want flew around.

I wanted you, and then a pitcher of water.
The water made me want earth to lay my
hands down.
A pear fell on the earth and I wanted to taste.
My hunger carried me around like a ladybug
on your arm.

I drank from your light.

I thought I would stop wanting, but then I realized
I wanted to stop wanting.

You made me want a slice of lemon.
The lemon made me want a pomegranate,
and a view of the sea.
I carried my desire across the bridge to the water.
I wanted the river to be an ocean.

A star fell into the river.
A thousand jays flew up, all of them wanting me.
I had thought I wanted to be wanted.
The want carved my face with its name and asked
me too many questions.

I said, I’d be happy just to trade this sky for the ocean.
I’m all out of desire.

You made me want rocks and shells.
Then I saw the rocks piled up by my house
and the necklace of shells around your neck.