Waiting for Your Call

The light retreats and is generous again.
No you to speak of, anywhere—neither in vicinity nor distance, 

so I look at the blue water, the snowy egret, the lace of its feathers 
shaking in the wind, the lake—no, I am lying. 

There are no egrets here, no water. Most of the time, 
my mind gnaws on such ridiculous fictions. 

My phone notes littered with lines like Beauty will not save you. 
Or: mouthwash, yogurt, cilantro. 

A hummingbird zips past me, its luminescent plumage 
disturbing my vision like a tiny dorsal fin. 

But what I want does not appear. Instead, I find the redwoods and pines, 
figs that have fallen and burst open on the pavement, 

announcing that sickly sweet smell,
the sweetness of grief, my prayer for what is gone. 

You are so dramatic, I say to the reflection on my phone, 
then order the collected novels of Jean Rhys. 

She, too, was humiliated by her body, that it wanted
such stupid, simple things: food and cherry wine, to touch someone. 

On my daily walk, I steal Meyer lemons from my neighbors’ yard, 
a small pomegranate. Instead of eating them, 

I observe their casual rot on the kitchen counter, 
this theatre of good things turning into something else.

-Aria Aber

What We Want

What we want
is never simple.
We move among the things
we thought we wanted:
a face, a room, an open book
and these things bear our names—
now they want us.
But what we want appears
in dreams, wearing disguises.
We fall past,
holding out our arms
and in the morning
our arms ache.
We don’t remember the dream,
but the dream remembers us.
It is there all day
as an animal is there
under the table,
as the stars are there
even in full sun.

– Linda Pastan

The Conditional

by Ada Limón

Say tomorrow doesn’t come.
Say the moon becomes an icy pit.
Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified.
Say the sun’s a foul black tire fire.
Say the owl’s eyes are pinpricks.
Say the raccoon’s a hot tar stain.
Say the shirt’s plastic ditch-litter.
Say the kitchen’s a cow’s corpse.
Say we never get to see it: bright
future, stuck like a bum star, never
coming close, never dazzling.
Say we never meet her. Never him.
Say we spend our last moments staring
at each other, hands knotted together,
clutching the dog, watching the sky burn.
Say, It doesn’t matter. Say, That would be
enough. Say you’d still want this: us alive,
right here, feeling lucky.

I Want to See You

"I want to see you. Know
your voice. Recognize
you when you first come 
round the corner. Sense
your scent when I come 
into a room you've just 
left. Know the lift of 
your heel, the glide of 
your foot. Become familiar 
with the way you 
purse your lips then let
them part, just the 
slightest bit, when I lean
in to your space and kiss 
you. I want to know the 
joy of how you whisper
"more".

           -Rumi

I want…

I want to taste and 
glory in each day. 
and never be afraid 
to experience pain;

-Sylvia Plath

I want…

I want you to unfold me
like paper. Take your hands
and press me out. Do it hard 
enough that the creases are faint. 
Do it soft enough that I know
I'm the most important 
thing you've touched
today. 

-ATS (Amyturnsharp of IG)

I’ve Tasted…

I've tasted your mind
and inhaled your
essence, but the way 
we become one...
Oh, the way our 
bodies merge as we
dance into each other
is a little death
I want again and again. 

-Melody Lee