Honestly? I think you don’t know what yearning is.
Has your daughter ever told you
fifty times in a row that the dog’s eating your hat?
Let it, I said. I don’t know if it was even once. Your emails
aren’t emails, they’re caresses. Tonight I’ll go to sleep with you
your email says to me. No, email, tonight you’ll go to sleep with your wife,
and I’ll go to sleep with my husband. Nevertheless no later than tomorrow
I plan to rid the world of all vessels,
those for drinking, peeing in, storing loved ones’ ashes,
for collecting our Saviour’s blood, and I will be the last
vessel in the world. And, let’s be clear,
our Saviour’s blood and I, only we two know
what yearning is.