Desire

To have this die, long before the night
In midday heat, to passion's delight
Before the moon captures the essence of still
The silence that cometh to break the noise of day
To the cloisters and festers of that, that does love
The warmth and reason of sun
Where the dry bones of prolonged ecstasy, sullied
Desire has its flight; its death of breath
On curves and hills of flesh, and ears that long to hear
The consonants and vowels of a tempestuous momentum
On blades of grass, dry, but of the sweat that’s sweet
A comment to God; or is it not?
To find you, between the rows of daisies, fragrant
Undistinguishable, from other tender
But for the hand that reaches for cheek, and lips for mouth
These, our bodies that fall to ground, to press…
Aggressively, towards a desirous end
Where the wake of unpretentious motives would see its own demise
For loftier notations, on the quintessential bed, where love might lie
To the fury of the union; to the hope, in need
On the floor of the garden in the noonday sun
To the height of the season where truth can abide
Us, in its reason; to the approaching night