I would prefer my arms
as long as Cleveland, my feet
fingered, my big toes opposable.
I would prefer my jaw yanked out,
side grinding, canines
honed to a pinprick.
I would prefer fruit
and the primacy of thieves.
I would prefer babies,
nimble in a week, clinging
with strong strong hands.
_____________
I prefer language
on the lip, nostril and lobe —
not of the maw.
I prefer my wares moot
and unsold. Howlers.
I prefer the dream of us
skilled in our dominions.
I prefer the dream.
With neither fealty nor paw,
I prefer melon over the husk
of most circumstance.
I prefer melon over all things
beholden to madness.
Image: MadMax Chef on Unsplash
