I want to own beautiful things.
A hardwood floor
to sprawl about in summer.
A needle
that peaks on vinyl
A rose
that animates the air
before it has been seen.
I want to reside as a dangling bra strap on your shoulder
My eyes to default to the furrowed creases between brow and bristles at your moment of O
My mouth to savour the bare breaths
when you part
my kimono.
I want every pen indentation
to arrest with intonation
that mornings lathering of soap
The groan you couldn’t help
And that era when my name
sounded like love.
I acquiesce
I don’t want
much else
Except perhaps
to see the lakes surface quivering above her privates
To feel
damp clumps of moss mat beneath my bare arse
And to curl
into cotton
And blossoms
as they drop
in the air.
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