Possession

Possession,
Unlike the genuine orgasma
       Of first love,
Is what you lop towards
Me
With,
       Your basket of hope-
Hope to possess me,
As if you could catch a scent on the wind,
       Or a lost ghost’s memories.

And I never outgrew
Wondering
        How the glinting stars maintain
Their premeditated promise
To keep shining,
Even when they are
         Challenged with wishes
         From people like you
         Who believe it is ok
And viable,
To wish for the possession
        Of another’s person’s soul.