Wanting

There is one desire touching the many things,
and it is continuous.
                                                      —Robert Hass

The trees want the moon, low and orange,
hovering in their branches.
The moon wants the hour before the sun sets,
when they are visible together in the sky.
The woman riding her bicycle
through darkening streets wants a storm
to break from behind the gathering clouds,
wants rain pounding down all night,
and the leaves, shuddering and wet
outside her window in the morning.

                I want to kiss you, she says.
                I want to kiss you, he says.

The mouth, which represents the body
far too often, wants to speak.
The body, wishing the gravity of sex
could hold it to this earth, wants
to move closer.

The heart, pumping away in the dark
hollow of the chest wants the blood
to return again and again,
and it does.

 

Poems by Lisa Sitkin: