I have an image of desire:
driving through the Palouse after being
east a while. The barren landscape
and the flawless hills like the curve of hips.
This land between east and west,
ponderosa and hemlock.
Dry air and a blue expanse—
the shade of my childhood bedroom.
All those afternoons spent staring
at walls. I never saw the color as “sky”
until the Palouse. This region between
love and unlove. I know what I want.
I know when I want something I cannot haveI am merely missing you.