The Golden Furnace

I need you to be
as police must have crime
fresco secco and lime
or ears and a falling tree

I yearn for your soul
like Moloch waits for sin
can opener and tin
or a pauper and the dole

I miss what I never had
a deaf man dreams of Handel
a blind man, light from a candle
a mute screams of his scandal
I am all three and love-mad

I wait for your look
like shoots follow the sun
zero and number one
or glasses and an old book

I want you to rise
as the bird on the pyre
summer and wood smoke fire
or a picnic and the flies