Desire’s Body

Desire’s body is tulip shaped
pink tinged, stuck in my throat,
choking me tonight, even as I walk
to the table carrying this plate, that
breaks, my dinner spilling and
scattering with all the ceramic pieces — 
this mess on the floor and table.

This mess on the table, my desire
a tulip, cut and tinged pink, for now,
while this scattering, this wind, shows
me the way beyond, the slow walk
where the pieces bring on tears,
where something tears in the wind,
my love, a shape I need to leave
behind, for this other thing, this
dropping, broken desire, a flower
picked and fading, alive, then dying.

The white at the edge of the shadow
burns, while the spilling gives way to
some other place, shapeless, fragrant.