Desiderium

Once I wanted to peel 
      life in one unbroken ribbon 
              from around an orange

I wanted to score
      the tender young skin
              of loaves with vines

The heft of a gourd
      in one hand is no match
             for that of a headstone

Try to think of a word for that
      kind of longing— how you love
              what you might never use up or begin