I wanted to own a chinchilla
when I was a little girl.
Forgive me my desires;
I thought things could be owned.
I thought I could name a thing
and make it mine; I thought
I could make it love me
if I fed it out of my hand,
kept it close, held it, kissed it.
I thought I could love the wild
out of an animal. I didn't
understand nature, only nurture,
only a hand raised to strike,
only a hand rubbing my back.
I wanted to own a thing,
tame a thing, love a thing.
I thought I had to break a thing
to make it love me; I didn’t know
love and breaking don't go together.
YOU ARE READING
eating the moon
Poetrycatalog of small tortures highest ranking: #2 in poemcollection © z. t. corley, 2023
