All She Wants....

She wants the shark to stay out of her waters.
She wants a catsuit, a knife, a set of acrylics,
a baba ghanouj and falafel sandwich.
She wants the grit to come out of the floorboards.
She wants to know who read her census form.
There will be no appraisal of her internal logic,
no assault of magnolia blossoms in February.
She wants an argument to break into a crest soothing as pillows, a new coat of paint and a chair she can sink into.
How can she get her shadow back?
She wants laugh lines.
She wants to scale tall buildings on a black night.
Who doesn't want more from her salad?
Who wouldn't want a trusted psychic friend?
She wants to get back in the Ryder truck and try again,
wants to wreck her stockings in some jukebox dive.
She wants me to stop pressing.
She wants the takeoff and not the landing.
She wants to trickle down a windowpane.
She wants to know what Jesus would have done.
She wants the tame and untame to switch habitats.
She wants to scrub time right off her hands.

~Meggen Lyon, University of North Carolina, Wilmington
{Thank you, Suzannah,...for reminding me of this.}