Psyche Courting Poseidon

Longing

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in the way that my tongue is suddenly dripping
or my skin becomes a dance hall of electricity
 
in my crying, like an infant calling for the breast
or in my heart that comes back and back again

when “want” and “need” are indistinguishable

when my mind says “no” but my stomach and my feet and my ears 
and my breathing out 
and my breathing in 
and my blood rushing, rushing toward dead ends 
says yes and yes and yes

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as i am gripped, bound like Odysseus, desperate to heed the siren’s call, 
as i lay in my bed and every thought, despite heroic efforts, returns again and again 
to the battle between hope and despair
so also do i long for the storm

without caring for distinctions, 
with fear trickling down my throat and 
settling in the deepest part of my belly, 
with my ears ringing to the crash of savage possibilities, 
with hell counted a trifling consequence, 
I enter the storm

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despite every impulse of my reason and every protestation of my mouth
despite every belief that i have cultivated and communicated 
in this effort to build a worthy identity
despite every philosophy i have embraced with seeming devotion
as if to spite the simple dignity to which I have subscribed my life

I come back again to my true love, 
to the secret meaning of existence 
tenderly fierce, i embrace the storm 
and sacrifice my lips to its capricious caress