sometimes wanting something lesser

I held the spark of you against a briny reservoir,
damp tinder shifting in refusal all the same

none too far but now is just a secret
for the meekness in your eyes? a red her
rising, far into round of riot-- love
won't ever speak of this; love won't know
the way

when the sound is not a fury but an outcropping,
a heartshaped misremembrance made hidden
if joy all moshed together with sorrow,

and yet