By Audre Lord

We flame the river

to keep the boat paths open

your eyes eat my shadow

at the light line


completing   each other’s need

to yearn

to settle into hunger


a waning moon.

Plucking desire

from my palms

like the firehairs of a cactus

I know this appetite

the greed of a poet

or an empty woman

trying to touch

what matters.

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