The most poignant moment comes
Like an ice cold draft spilling down my back
It’s like waking up inside a dream
All these months curled up in pious repose
In celibacy, in solitude, in the quiet shell of grief
Because someone I love got lost in the weeds of addiction
My mouth is dry with fiery lust
This pure physical desire has no particular object to crave
It just happens with a shock of conscience
Inside the purifying practices of the holy month
Do I not cleave to God in this time?
Am I not supposed to further fall away from earthly pleasures?
How is this opposite phenomenon occurring?
Inside my mind and my body the aching chemistry
Wet with hormone, and rapid synaptic cracklings shake the libido
My sensual urges rise, awakened from their dormant reprieve