Dream

To dream of sex is not just a cry for pleasure,
but for peace and trust,
a simple measure

allowing time for the body to take over,
giving mind a goal, reminiscent of bodily comfort,
releasing soul

that is always at the point of frustration: a solid need
for imagined, but effective salvation
that the body heeds;

but still in the end resolves nothing: hard flesh gone limp,
the body no longer responding
like a rusted pump.

Especially when displayed on a screen, sex is dull as bread,
as incapable of rising as lead.
No resurrection.

So what to death is the answer? The goal?
A spiritual recreation?
Or bituminous leading to coal?