- Vol. 04
- Chapter 07
Encyclopedia of Presumed Joys
She threw the abundance of her desire Into the hollowness of every day And came back empty. She called it scarcity.
The world gave her much to fill: Hours, forms, hearts, rooms. She wanted to fill them with Fresh-cut flowers, Night skies so close you could drink them, The sound of paintbrushes chiming against the rims of water glasses, ‘Other: Please specify.’
Her desire tasted like her mother’s friend playing piano after dinner. Desire taught her that some families play piano after dinner And call it dinner, not tea.
It taught her the shapes of other people’s lives have softer edges. That you can over-water flowers, and rancour desire with too much thought. That desire is a glass that can only ever be half-filled.
She wanted a heart so boundless It would lift her clean off the streets On the long walk home. But here she is, On the same dirty pavement, And her heart is nowhere in particular.