sitting at my desk amid the detritus
of a night’s fruitless effort
I toss my pen into the pile crumpled paper
leaning back I sigh, or pray your name,
the ultimate orison, or blasphemy
I know not, care not—
to speak it is both sweet and bitter
yet it is altogether pleasent to speak your name
so i speak it sgsin.
in answer I am swept by desire more than physical,
a desire, not mine, but matching mine own.
then I hear you call my name, and I freeze:
madness and grace confront me from the dark
blessing and damnation await my next step
do I reach out to some demon of longing
or will you answer my reply?
I close my eyes and reach into the night …