They wished to be the school of white children nestled on the open hillside green under a blustery sky.
They wished to be nobody ’cause
They wished to
They wished they had been born to the producers of famous violence.
They wished they had seen the inside of the hill.
They wished to gravitate toward the nicest kinds of intimate apparel.
They wished they were instead the Chinese artisan carving one ornate piece of ivory or jade for their entire lives then passing it unfinished to the next generation to continue their intricate devotion to the project for the emperor.
They wished to be shuddering of the plastic bag wrapped around a wind.
They wished to be held in the fastness of the eye.
They wished to be held in the emptiness of the eye.
They wished to be thousands upon thousands of bags of tissue supposedly incinerated before the landfill.
They wished they would soon be able to speak, to open their eyes, to receive visitors.