I want a poem like a near-death experience.
I want a poem hot as wasabi.
I want a poem pungent as a skunk.
I want a poem like a roller coaster.
I want a poem like a river in flood
I want a poem like the air before a thunderstorm.
I want a poem like a heart breaking.
I want a poem like a car crash.
I want a poem like when you’ve got to go, and you hold it for so long, then finally you find a bathroom, and it’s like the bliss of piss.
I want a poem like a good night’s sleep.
I want a poem like waking up refreshed.
I want a poem like sheets of rain like silver.
I want a poem like droplets of water like diamonds on bare branches.
I want a poem like the riot of color that is a Texas spring.
I want a poem like 40 minutes of foreplay.
I want a poem like sex after 40 days unlaid.
I want a poem like an alcohol blood level of .11.
I want a poem like a good dump.
I want a poem like a rush of endorphins.
I want a poem like an hour’s massage.
I want a poem like a walk in the fog.
I want a poem like a walk in the snow.
I want a poem like breast feeding.
I want a poem like the relief of victory.
I want a poem like Mardi Gras.
I want a poem like a memory awakened by a smell.
I want a poem like pulling off a scab.
I want a poem like a tooth extraction.
I want a poem like the eureka of understanding.
I want a poem like the wet pants of mirth.
I want a poem like popping a pimple.
I want a poem like a erupting blackhead.
I want a poem like a productive blowing of the nose.
I want a poem like a three-octave fart.
I want a poem like taking off tight shoes after a 10-hour shift.
I want a poem like a spiritual rapture.
I want a poem like the exuberance of childhood.
I want a poem like wind in my face.
I want a poem like the sun on my back.
I want a poem like the roll of the ocean.
I want a poem like the sweat of the dance.
I want a poem like flying, sky diving.
I want a poem like a city of skyscrapers.
I want a poem like natural splendor.
I want a poem like a chameleon sunset.
I want a poem like after you throw up.
I want a poem like the way Christmas used to be.
I want a poem like a swim on a hot day.
I want a poem like that’s alive and on stage; not sitting in some book.
I want a poem!
—
Previously published in The Trinity Review, no url available.
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Photo: Courtesy of Author