Terrance Hayes
I want to always sleep beneath a bright red blanket
of leaves. I want to never wear a coat of ice.
I want to learn to walk without blinking.
I want to learn the language of a Chilean poet.
I want to say God & fuck you & touch me
without blinking. I want to outlive the turtle
& the turtle's father, the stone. I want a mouth
full of permissions & a pink glistening bud.
If the wildflower & ant hill can return
after sleeping three seasons, I want to walk
out of this house wearing nothing but wind.
I want to greet you, I want to wait for the bus with you
weighing less than a chill. I want to fight off the bolts
of gray lighting the alcoves & winding paths
of your hair. I want to fight off the damp nudgings
of snow. I want to fight off the wind.
I want to be the wind & I want to fight off the wind
with its sagging banner of isolation, its swinging
screen doors, its gilded boxes, & neatly folded pamphlets
of noise. I want to fight off the dull straight lines
of two by fours & endings, your disapprovals,
your doubts & regulations, your carbon copies.
If the locust can abandon its suit,
I want a brand new name. I want the pepper's fury
& the salt's tenderness. I want the eight-sided passion
of sugar, but not its need. I want the virtue
of the evening rain, but not its gossip.
I want the moon's intuition, but not its questions.
I want the malice of nothing on earth. I want to enter
every room in a strange electrified city
& find you there. I want your lips around the bell of flesh
at the bottom of my ear. I want to be the mirror,
but not the nightstand. I do not want to be the light switch.
I do not want to be the yellow photograph
or book of poems. When I leave this body, Woman,
I want to be pure flame and song. I want to be your breath.
