Desire

Lay me down at the edge of holy sacrifice.
I take a wife and name her Poverty.
No dowry means beans to me -
She brings me gold in honey for my tea,
She brings me gold in the skies of sunset seen from
	Seventh Avenue -
Swinging hands held,
	humbly holding a bottle of wine
	like a baby at her breast,
    cradled in the crook of her arm,
	crooked in the sleeves of salvation sweaters,
I let her breathe between my lips -
I put my hands on her hips and feel the freedom of her dance -
I taste the trance of her brown beer and smoky laugh -

I chased after her
	down windblown alleys of desire -
I chased after her
	past fires of gasoline danger -
I chased after her
	beneath the gaze of cathedral saints -
I chased after her
	beneath the gargoyle grimace of peeling paint
		past the points of their pious wings -
I chased after her where the park bench sings out 
	the "coo" of fat pigeons full of wonder -
I chased after her
	in the dark of full moon saloons
		past shadows in the mad glow of cigarettes lit in
		fits of desperation -
I chased after her
	back to the start of the first step I took
		in the direction of her beauty.
Playing the part of the fool for love -
	lost on the corners of loneliness and jealousy,
	hoping to catch a glimpse of me
	past storefront glass
		or in the reflection of gutter-gathered rain.


My heart beats voodoo for you, 
	who are draped in rags of grace -
For you,
	who are dancing drunk at Sabbath dawn -
For you,
	who splay your lay across the bed of love 
	with smiling eyes full of unremorse -
For you,
	who stay your course through the storms of your mind -
For you,
	who cry tears of happiness -
For you,
	who laugh for sadness a blues of pride and hope -
For you,
	who tie faithful knots in the rope they'd
		hang you by -
	and for you,
		who come to me when my steps have sense
		enough to stop.