I want the whole loaf toasted

But even with my mouth on your thigh 

I want my mouth on your thigh. 

At the center bite of bread I want the whole loaf 

toasted, and an orange. On a sunny day 

I want more sun, more skin for weather. 

I'm in Seattle wishing for Seattle,

for this walk along the water, for her hand while I hold it:

I want to tie my wrist to a red balloon.

I'm counting my tips.

I'm counting the tips I could have made.

I want the television on, the television off.

In the ocean, I want to float an inch above it

and when my father finally held me

like a stripe of seaweed over his wet arm,

I was kicking to get away, wishing he'd hold me

like he held me when I was kicking away. Listen to me.

I want to leave when I'm walking out the door.

[Kary Wayson 'More of the Same', from Fire on Her Tongue: An Anthology of Contemporary Women’s Poetry]