The pull before you give it a name. What the body has been wanting while you negotiated with it.

Hunger

Late spring opens an appetite. This week we name what we want, without polishing it, without apologizing, and notice what we have been calling by other names.

Each face in the street is a slice of bread
wandering on
searching

somewhere in the light the true hunger
appears to be passing them by
they clutch

have they forgotten the pale caves
they dreamed of hiding in
their own caves
full of the waiting of their footprints
hung with the hollow marks of their groping
full of their sleep and their hiding

have they forgotten the ragged tunnels
they dreamed of following in out of the light
to hear step after step

the heart of bread
to be sustained by its dark breath
and emerge

to find themselves alone
before a wheat field
raising its radiance to the moon

Bread

Each face in the street is a slice of bread
wandering on
searching

Describe a thing you stopped letting yourself want.

I am blessed
with a partner
for a game of two.

We chose each other,
and because of that,
he never looked
for another
but me.

Through every up and down,
north and south,
across the dinner table,
we move together
like muscle memory.

But the game we play
is not a jigsaw puzzle.
It is more like a seesaw.

And sometimes
I cannot help
but wonder
how it feels
to fall asleep
in afterglow,
to be held
beneath a lingering gaze,
to simply lie
side by side
like two pieces
shaped from the same mold.

:)