The Island
“Desire thrives on distance, hope, and fear.
We must travel”—says Maurice—“our separate ways.”
Some objects are closer than they appear.
He purrs I look best in his rear-view mirror.
“Is it not the changing tide that makes the waves?
Should the ocean be a salty lake?” I hear
The ocean in Maurice. He smoothes his hair.
“A poodle, a wolf—they both long to stray.”
Some objects are closer than they appear.
So, he can love me from afar, but not anear.
Part of me agrees with what he says:
We get secure, and desire disappears
and I feel older, cast as “him” and “her,”
both of us cracked and looking slightly glazed,
Some couples grow closer, or so they appear.
“Darling, I long to miss your face—
Couldn’t we both use the thrill of the chase?”
Objects may be just what and where they appear.
Desire thrives on distance, hope, and fear.
Commissioned by the Santa Barbara Museum of Art