Previous Poem  |  Return to the Poetry index page  |  Next Poem The Hunger of Heaven by Dennis McBride from Looking for Peoria: The Epicurean At Rest (1995) It is a part of the making of sense,   the simple desire of the angel     to ascend down to the smart earth       among the yellow bee     and the salty lips of the senses To taste the sweet citrus  on the other side    of the bite of the apple to wade deep  into the warm wet    on the other side     of the parted skin It is a part of the making of sense   to stand under      the winter street lamp and to hear stillness      louder and louder        beneath the silent      slow-falling snow coming down     and down        not forever but till everything is patient in the white coat To leave the smooth dumbness of eternity for the dark ache of the tooth, the love of the urge to lie, is a part of the drive that drives the angel's simple desire to ascend down to the sharp burst of the touch, the honest hunger of the eye It is a part of the making of sense to leave diaphanous wings and the clear weightless gown for the green paint of a park bench next to the secret sadness in the old man with the dirty coat, who watches the hands of lovers, who takes his one strong hand to the bed of his one room to guide his need to their feast To see once, when you stand alone in silent wood, the brown deer, still, in the scent for water It is a part of the hunger of Heaven when one has tired of the light's teasing, the sticky lust of the will, the heart's fear, of love, to find a way back steeper than the wood animal. Previous Poem  |  Return to the Poetry index page  |  Next Poem

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