What I Want

I want to know
the fire of new love
volcanically, all molten passion
that cools into solid devotion
and a decadence of lust

I want to feel
a wellspring of devotion
not a verdant font
but simple, like when you hold
your thumb over the garden hose
release

I need to see
passion that can only be described
as dereliction of defenses
to love laid-out
like charts of desire
the hollow of her neck my compass

I long to labor
at the work of loving
until my hands are scarred
all criss-crossed cuts
left by long hours of abandon

I yearn to hear
a melody of constance
secure in the knowing
of every chord and key
and play my own joyfully

Pour this onto me
ye gods of man
and in the doing
prove that you know
why we need to be known

I want this.