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
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