Diorama of Want

I want everything.   Soft soil, a tender you,   and sunlight canoeing through   windows, deciding who to thaw   back into the big, tall     whoosh of life—flies,     bees. I want to tie a string around   your waist—for you     to adore my gentle leading.     I’m full of hunger     and whirled by visions in which     I swallow tornados     whole—some nights   I sleep with   strands of wind still   dangling from my teeth. I’ve taken so much that my hands     are heavy with having. My wants reach the ceiling. And I’m     afraid there’s   no—Oh,   no   my hard-limbed love, my tame-sigher, please         understand there’s barely even room    for me.