I wish to lead a slow life
so that I may keep up with it.
I am made of the thick substance,
the vicious, resisting the loud
and the quick footed.
I hope to lead the old woman life,
one spent in delightful drudgery.
Spend mornings pushing plates
through grey water,
last night’s skin.
I want to be sure
that there are good friends close by,
for company,
the dinner by the heater kind
escape that frigid bite outside
and with old house fragrance
and the experiment to eat.
To laugh and choke on.
And I’ll pull up the yield
and put down more roots
and I’ll keep my hand on the earth’s belly.
O! That would be bliss
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