What We Want
What we want
is never simple.
We move among the
things
we thought we wanted:
a face, a room, an open
book
and these things bear
our names -
now they want us.
But what we want
appears
in dreams, wearing
disguises.
We fall past,
holding out our arms
and in the morning
out arms ache.
We don't remember the
dream,
but the dream
remember us.
It is there all day
as an animal is there
under the table,
as the stars are there
even in full sun.
