I want to go to that
rolling, dimpled land that swells
and falls like sighs.
I want to be big enough
to lie down and stretch across
the whole of the land, matching her body with mine
contour for contour.
Touch every shaggy pony
until they graze in my hair
while the clouds slide over my cheekbones.
I want the trees to tangle in my hair like
briars and to shake them free.
Run my fingertips the long length of a creek bed
until I reach the source.
I want you to want these things
that are past the city where you cannot see them.
This poem was one judge's favorite. What this poem has, and many poems lack, is an ease of diction and rhythm, along with a precision of image. It’s not forced. It seems as if you are really experiencing the world that you're writing about--palpably. Thank you for sharing your poem, Rebecca.