By Tatum Spriester | March 29, 2020

I wish I could remember more of what it was to be small,

I wish my tongue knew how to roll off the word “Azerbaijan”

I wish I could sweat soup so I could run forever and ever and end world hunger.

I wish I was a witness worth protecting,

I wish my high school transcript was just a binder full of poetry and

pictures of mushrooms printed on purple cardstock.

I wish I could sleep in mystery places and eat raw meat.

I wish there weren’t so many poems that have the same names and

I wish there was more music where the instruments sound angry.

I wish I could find the perfect words to describe this old decrepit building I see in my dreams

with a staircase that falls in on itself as I climb.

I wish time would stop

and I could prance across the classroom

and slap a rat-faced boyman

and get him to stop staring.