I'm Needy

Who knows what I need?
Arms that wrap and stay.
Repose. One night without
somebody's crisis hammering
into my imagination. I need

a good read, to fall into a book,
a fiction world, and swim
through laughter, reinvent
families that don't die, but
go on picnics instead.

I need to write a good poem,
really good, precise but evocative,
so my words envelop you, reader,
like a bouquet of wildflowers,
make your senses drown in beauty.

I need some publisher to read
this poem and say MY GOD,
that woman sweats talent,
so I'll offer her a contract
and my country house, a place

where she can take the longest
green walk without becoming
winded, daydream, come home
and make perfect tea, and need
nothing, not even herself.