Starting August with a sonnet

A sonnet for the first day of August 2017.


"my neighbor, my desire"

She gives me all she has, yet it is an
illusion; if this happened while we are
alone, I'd have a very diff'rent plan —
yet though she's close and naked, she is far
from being mine, the way I wish that she
would be if she weren't dancing by a pole —
and yet we've talked, and know some bits that we
do share in public, yet not the vital whole
by which I'd know her deepest. If I could —
if I could burst the boundaries that lie
between her lives and mine, then what I would
endeavor to provide her is what I
possess, the all of me, condensed to just
a single act and bond and place and trust.