loosing passion

i've felt it from your skin
woken by a touch , forgotten
in past's damp swamp, a cypress fallen
sun exposed, explodes with squiggly
tadpoles turned to frogs with gulping tounges
and suddenly you can eat again.

i've heard you complain of nothing's
sucking sound, the calm of desirelessness
a warm gulf tidal pool, remnant of tide's
recession, ear's last pop. and now i have to give you hand
when the poem just begins and i wonder
why i have no time to write and it's all about the living
for which i have no passion if i cannot write.
o my love , why did i forsake you?