Call Me by the Name of Desire

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

An emptiness behind the eyes is not

What lovers want.  A shrug of shoulder kills

The yearn of heart.  A blankness never sought

Is what that shrug’s lacuna brings.  The chills

Will blast in ribs as if some twenty-four

Contorted blizzards fill the marrow’s space.

An emphasis in eyes of something sore

Like love, perhaps with passion in a race

To prove devotion — that perhaps will warm

The universe a lover wants.  That stress

On wolf pack passion might bring on the storm

The lover needs, a look that tempts caress.

  You signal to your lover from behind

    Blue irises.  A lover looks, not blind.