Obsession

To begin again,
all things vital like liquid
on a sallow thread.

The fire hiccups yellow
on the wood. You want
her to imagine you here, swallowed
by blankets and robes, successful
solitaire spread on the desk.
You won. The fire applauds.

Night time, another start.
Tree branches, veins against
the sky. Black and blue trunks drag the
meadow. Work piles,
bad architecture. You read
another chapter,
finish the novel on the
shelf. She fits the
adjectives
like sleek machinery and
the cold howls; you take
the words, talk it out not quite
singing.

Now you know
all the secret turns to her
house, the code behind
the lights in the window,
the tone of the bell.
You know the steps to the grocery
store, the distance to
the parking lot, the way her
key turns in the mail slot.

In the morning, you begin
again
your dull, dull wanting.