I want Bloody Mary brunches
and poetry in bed
and a legitimate shot at
legitimacy

I want to know pain
but not too much
and to skirt death
but not too soon

I want to cry not
because the world is not fair
but that there is fairness
in every ant and plant
and even those half-living creatures
that cause us harm invisibly

I want to make my mark
as both dog and tree
so those who know well
can find their own path
(or at least a skilled lumberjack)

I want faith in myself
and my family and friends
and least of all
in my convictions

I want to love someone
sub-superficially
from the roots of the nerves
to the tip of the knows
I’m not sure yet who
maybe myself

I want this all not
just on Bloody Sundays
but will settle I suppose
for a stalk or two
of celery

Rich, L. E. (2007, September 19). Sunday. Leigh Rich Freelance: five2seven.