Desire

I wear it on the bottoms of my feetand it makes walking hard.

I want to lie on my back in the mostinconvenient of places.

Go all child’s pose. Pull my feetto my mouth, lick my soles.

It gets old. I transfer itto my hands and still

I can’t seem to stand— my hands goto the stove, the knife, the coals.

I stuff my mouth with desire but it tasteslike arsenic and oil.

If I wear it like a halo, I can reach upand hang from my desire.