Desire

When desire comes up beside you
and wraps you in its woolen cape,
you are to it a fruit past due,
split open like the skin of a grape.

Or perhaps it is a thick web
interlacing branches of trees,
and you are patterned from it ebb
and flow like curtains in the breeze.

Or maybe it is a fine gauze
that filters the no from the yes
and is thus the effective cause
of all your pain and happiness.