Thing we need: bird.
A maze of delicate, hollow bones,
a cold red heart floating in circles,
longing along for the passed.
Thing we need: mountain.
Roaring stone against roaring stone,
a million year violence yawning up,
stabbing into the soft clouds.
Thing we need: death.
A body, blood-slack and heaving,
a soul, walking within walls,
a breaking gasp, a name hidden under tongue.
Thing we need: love.
A nibble on fingers, a kiss to the throat,
a touch to the tender skin, a rush to the lips.
But first, you give them the eye.
Peter Velsor is the pen name of a New York-based artist and poet who's quite well known for something other than his own poetry. Previously published in the New York Times, Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, Buzzfeed, Chicago Tribune, with artistic work featured in the permanent collection of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C.