What I Want From Writing

I want writing
to burst out of me,
startle the nearest bystander,
spiral me to the center of an atom,
ride me bareback on a wild horse.
I want it to click its heels on the pavement,
crack open a stone to find a tear within,
spill over me like a river disregarding its banks.
I want it to save me, all right?
bear witness, piss people off,
take hazardous leaps.
I want it to roll me in silk sheets,
hold me hostage,
keep the pain in, let the pain out.
I want it hard
like a lover making me gasp.
I want it soft
like the cheek of my child.
I want it to cajole me, soothe me,
surprise me, shock me.
I want it to be mine, only mine,
my voice, my words, my heart,
then yours, all yours,
so you will say: Yes!
Yes.

[Published in Rattle, Poetry for the 21st Century, Winter 2002]