What then, of lust?

Poetry: No End (To The Endless Days)

Image courtesy of Ilya Shishikhin on Unsplash

Was it lust that made a sense
Out of the pile of the poet’s wild strawberries.
Was it lust which rolled the two of us together
Such that our passionate desire
For each other’s bodies was sated.
Such that our juices flowed
As did the squeezed fruits, of the racecourse forest.
Was it lust which drove each other’s minds to enquire
To try to share the other’s mind’s possessions.
Was it lust that…