VALLEY OF SWEET
Desire like a strong belted man leans over the faucet
to wash its face in the morning after, glowing & slowly
entering the world, the fingers lighting up like night flora.
I come to you, dressed in nothing but myself. Imagining
a day were you anoint my body the way I want you to.
Damned in the valley of sweet remembrance, how the
claiming of a thing, like desire, makes the breath hot,
heals the wounded mint tree. O, Desire. Put your bladed
tongue on my back, import something kind, something
I've been needing in night, praying to the siege of a waning
moon, a mystic searching & sweating in the desert.
I am Helen, you are my Troy. I am waiting for you.
