you are magnetic north. every needle in me
shivers and points to you. no deviation, no variation,
the field so strong no adjuster is needed. I point north,
as birds fly, aligned with forces
I cannot name or understand.
you are home. every fibre of me
relaxes and warms to you. no wariness, no fear,
save the fear of losing that warmth. I yearn for home
like any weary mariner, for the reassurance
of familiar waters, familiar land.
you are forbidden fruit. every finger of me
aches to touch you, so perfect, so right,
a rightness so compelling it hurts. I look away,
as if dazzled, to hide a thirst
I cannot deny, dare not display.
you are all I want. every day of mine
is haunted by the ghost of you. without hope or comfort
my heart stays open as a derelict house. I hear the wind
whistle through a you-shaped hole in me;
I wake from cruel, happy dreams.
-- GPL Sep 2005 D. A. Clarke