Thirst

There is no help
for a blue sky,

holding out your hand
to the wrong man

at the right time,
to underestimating

the breadth and depth
of your own thirst.

You cannot take back
the sweat of his palm

on your tongue, one night
stand he’ll never believe.

You will never change
the color of the sky.

Search though you might,
amuck in pressing

the boundaries of your lungs,
your life, what luck

you have collected,
you will always thirst.

It’s genetic.
It’s inculcated.

It’s a blessing.
Drink deep

and never be filled
because it is the surprise

of yourself, unsung,
that will water

the roots of the rest
of your days.

by Mary Alexandra Agner

from Autumn Sky Poetry Number 8, December 2007

Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim