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More and More

 More and more frequently the edges
of me dissolve and I become
a wish to assimilate the world, including
you, if possible through the skin
like a cool plant's tricks with oxygen
and live by a harmless green burning.
I would not consume you or ever finish, you would still be there surrounding me, complete as the air.
Unfortunately I don't have leaves.
Instead I have eyes and teeth and other non-green things which rule out osmosis.
So be careful, I mean it, I give you fair warning: This kind of hunger draws everything into its own space; nor can we talk it all over, have a calm rational discussion.
There is no reason for this, only a starved dog's logic about bones.

Poem by Margaret Atwood
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Book: Shattered Sighs