Poem

The Want

Twilight

and I begin to miss you.

I have dreamed of you
in the palms of my hands;
I have dreamed of you
lashes to lashes, lips
to lips.

A small gull floats beyond
over white beach, in Zeppelin clouds
and fuchsia sky, they melt
into your eyes, your cheeks,
my fingertips. Evening and

I dream of you when we touch
the stars and planets, the stars
and planets are points
of view. Is your moon, my moon?
Calm and

the same breath and speech,
the hollow, loose mumbling.
I wake, my love collapsed
in my eyes and throat

and the ocean’s breeze lifts
my hair, another gull.

I stand

and walk the boardwalk home.
Memory serves: I dreamed your hand
in mine, the want
of my palm, the want
of my desire, the want

of my dream.