Rachel Becker

What we think we want

we don’t want. Want May’s first blush
of sun, not rough winds, shook buds. 

Want the garden, already planted,
not the invasive snarls that step on their light. 

Want the heat, not June gloom; the lush garden,
but not the bees or the upkeep; just the harvest. 

Want the patio cocktail party but not the clean-up,
not the upset guest, wine glasses sweating into our palms. 

Want the solstice, but not the next day,
whereafter every day shortens. And each night 

it’s always you I want, but not the threat
of losing you, not the way you sleep 

like a soldier stands, a sentry to yourself,
arms pinning the sheet to your sides 

as if already entombed. This is not what I meant
when I said I wanted summer.

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Rachel Becker is a Boston-based teacher of high school English and Creative Writing. Her poems most recently appear or are forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review, New World Writing Quarterly, Barely South Review, Ghost City Review and RHINO.