Member-only story
Like Dogs
a wishlist
I wish I knew how to make myself bee what you want me to be.
That it was uncomplicated, that my thoughts weren’t rigid, that I didn’t sign myself a daughter of Judas, that I knew how more than I know why.
I wish I knew what it was to be your daddy ’cause I think I might’ve loved you better than I can love you as a woman, all flat-chested and awkward-limbed.
That I remembered I forgot, that I had a raven on my shoulder to whisper what I’ve lost.
I wish I was seventeen again, so I could cut off my hair instead of paint it and take myself to a nunnery before inviting sin in.
I wish my thighs weren’t fat enough to suffocate.
That my fingers didn’t get all clammy when finding a home.
I wish I could swallow three-syllable words without choking.
I wish I’d lost my virginity in your pumpkin patch.
That those people dead got to give the Christmas gifts they’d hidden in the closet.
I wish I hadn’t liked so much to kiss men’s knees.
That when I tried to catch up with the future, my fingers didn’t get snapped back. I wish I knew the bits missing from the Bible.
