With nothing but the slurry of an organ
maybe a lake to
dip my feet in money
trees to pick my fruit from
a mini fridge
to keep it all fresh while
I lie on my back
threatening to throw all my stuff away for good
let it wilt into my body of water every better thing
that don’t involve ideals
of better things I’ll never have
a sanctuary for
From The Collection Plate: Poems by Kendra Allen. Copyright © 2021 by Kendra Allen. Reprinted by permission of Ecco, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.