Burning the Water Hyacinth
We flame the river
to keep the boat paths open
your eyes eat my shadow
at the light line
touchless
completing each other's need
to yearn
to settle into hunger
faceless
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.
from Our Dead Behind Us by Audre Lorde copyright 1986
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