To drape the longing casually

over the back of the kitchen chair

or leave it hanging on the hook (a little off center) on my bedroom door,

perhaps tuck it in the pocket of an unsuspecting stranger

or stuff it under my grandmother's Persian rug.

but to make of it a holy offering

adorned with wildflowers and honey,

turquoise and tobacco

delicious in its beauty.

This is the code of the stars

and the task to which I am committed.

and you (I have put a sprig behind your ear)

drenching me,

quenching my thirst

with the sweet rain of tender

love.