According to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, I am a Hungry Ghost

My love drifts and bobs / on an ocean of desire / like an untethered raft / made from the slim     trunks of trees / See if you can catch it / I’ve always made / my lovers into gods / It’s like this: if I think like a goddess / then I will know the Goddess inside me / Atman equals Brahman / My body is in the world / and my body is the world / I wonder / when stories about climate change / shifted from being science fiction / to being news / I wonder / when hunger shifted / from a widening ache / to this narrow-sharp stabbing sensation / In the back of my mind / a child throwing a tantrum / In the corner / the Queen of the Night cactus / reaches with green-fingered hands / blooming beneath a poster / of all the dogs / we’ve ever owned / and some we haven’t yet / A silk scarf draped / over a rack of shoes: Doc Martens / Doc Martens / Doc Martens /Doc Martens / I have more shoes than I need / There: a promise scrawled / on a slip of paper /a stoppered bottle / stuffed with a lie / a spill of moonlight / Meanwhile my love shuffles away / on soft slippered feet / the way dusk disappears / into night.