I do not want to be fertile,
nor legless, nor a six-sided wind.
I do not want to be your heimat;
a postmark as good as currency.
I do not want to know when pens
were built or visit factories.
I do not want the forgiveness.
The cat blinks & then there are no curtains.
I do not want a homewrecker.
Stark as a mistress, be chaste.
I do not want the power to marry.
For divots abound, on my shopping trips.
I do not want red boots or red teeth,
cracked they are already from a knee to the jaw.
I do not want the post,
as I speak no Spanish.
I have no lamp that takes that kind of oil.
I no longer want love in summer or spring.
I get too hot & forget what it means
to prevent my kin from issuing litter.