Desire
what drives us
in the heat of the passion
or time’s slow crawl
when I feel her breath
on my neck
or nature’s stormy thrall
with rain and sleet
the summer’s sunny beat
winter’s chattering teeth
a touch of warmth
under my sheets
the profession of power
its hold over us
belies the constant struggle
to never cheat or lie
Desire, the poisonous apple
or the shifty eyed devil
is always welcome
within our midst
in the palm of our hands
a slap on the wrist
a gentle caress
the slow reveal of
her cocktail dress
Desire, the sweetest cyanide
why do you reside
in the square jaw
of a handsome man?
A heathen poet 