Long after midnight, after goodbye

I drive on home under this shallow sky

Daughter of the hunger moon

She runs bare hands

'round these darkened rooms

Convince myself I like being alone

Three in the morning, while I fix some toast

and Earl Grey tea with too much honey

Feed the cats, drink some wine,

run a very deep bath

And write a few poems

with the refrigerator magnets

Time itself is crystallized

Do I listen to my heart my body or my mind?

To love, to lust or to analyze

To hear these shy conflicting cries?

There's always someone left unfed

The aching belly or the vacant bed

It's hard to get these hungers straight

Always something over which to fixate

It's hard to hear what's really being said

I wish I could live outside my head

It's hard to keep them all well fed

To find soul, to make love, to be well read