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I wish I was young…
If I was young
I would
be barefaced
and barefooted,
just toes and fingers and sinewy limbs.
I would
be some pretty, woodland magic
in a beaded, sheer tunic.
I would
wash my hair in the river
tossing it back
over my shoulders
and I would
appear in your dreams
like a moon song flower.
I would
stumble down rocks
straight into rushing water
to the other side of everything.
If I was young
I would
sing my heart out in a band,
bold and wanton earthy
leave my body up on stage
rising up from a shiny puddle
and I would grow hoarse
from all the talking
from telling you my stories,
from describing all the details
of this line
and that shape.
But I would never tell you
why
I
can’t
love.
If I was young
I would walk to your house,
I would look for your shadow,
I would wait for your lips,
and I would lick my own
like sticky, sweet sugar on a rim.
I wish I was young…
If I was young
I would devour
your ever-present truth;
I would show you something wild
but lasting
inside my fleeting youth.
~
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