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I'm a Minnesota Girl, living in the south. I tell my friends I try not to talk and think like a Yankee, but sometimes I slip up!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Something For Everyone

Thanks to Cara of "Oooh, books", for hosting this at Freeverse. Click on the link below for more.


Something For Everyone

I want the water to fill your glass the moment

it sees your thirst.

I want the staircase to meet your footfalls.

I want the line to the freeway to move like breath.

I want the wind flattering your hairline, the rainshower

a welcome refreshment. I want the parking space to fit your car.

I want the birds on your back deck to warble in the exact way

they did during your childhood. I want the photographs

of all your holiday dinners buzzing with a certain unnamable

happiness. I want the dry cleaners to understand

your outrageous requests.

I want the man calling your house to survey

your thoughts on phone companies to remember

the evening is precious as silk. I want your new jeans to not

come undone in the wash. I want snow to land on your eyelashes

like it does in the movies, an etheric, slow-moving kiss.

I want a letter to arrive the moment

you feel most unwelcome of your own company.

I want the scent of lemons in the air. I want the power lines

overshadowed by the view your neighborhood offers at twilight.

I want the downtown ice rink to keep your fantasies aloft.

I want the moon to articulate your most punishing silence.

I want the willow tree revived and teeming, the broken daisies

resurrected and obstinate with brightness.

I want the labyrinth of what ifs narrowed

to a single, poignant sentence.

I want the tulips to be wild as clover, as fog, as good intentions.

I want your heart to cut through its own brutality,

for your body to see everything about you that’s beautiful.

I want love to come at you in thick pats of butter,

in strands of spun sugar, heavy and light as cream.

I want it to bathe your skin until you are nothing

but forgiveness, until your shadows have disappeared,

until all of your perfect right angles have collapsed,

until you are a curve of a curve,

and your hands slide forward and open

and are able, at last, to feel everything.

-priceless poetry by Maya Stein

Would that I had written this for you, B.

1 comment:

Kelly said...

Oh.... the imagery in this!!!

Beautiful, Quid. I love it!