March 12, 2013

Something about Desire by Johanna M. Geiger

I feel for you, blindly
between the midnight blue bed sheets bought on a whim.
fingers grasp air while
sweat of my palm is rubbed bare.
heart vacantly hollow
fragment of bark on infected tree.
delicately I reach for you with syrupy hands
sticking clumsily to the minute sweetness exposed

That night you ate heaps of garbage
I ate hash with Heinz.
fondly I fumble beneath
heavy weight of Desire.
palms pass over the sunken hollow where you slept sprawled,
breath smelling of sleep, eyes crusted like sugary maple.
Something about Desire makes me crave you
inclined to want you when our bed is cold.
window open
air departing, unseen.

Johanna M. Geiger sometimes drinks wine when all she really wants is a big glass of ice water. She graduated in 2005 from Oswego State University in Oswego, NY. She has appeared in Words-Myth and Poppy Road Review and lives in Altamont, NY with her husband.

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