By Gretchen Hintze
I’d like to see you bite the head off a bear,
Clean the chalk tray with your eye,
Kiss a ceiling without your feet leaving the carpet,
Paint a desk on a mountain,
Catch a dream in a baby food carrot jar.
Do you think you can do these things?
I want you to write on air about nothing and no one,
Collect forty five bees with the silver kitchen tongs,
Dig up the fire of a star using a wooden trowel,
Blush like your mom caught you making out with her boss,
Break a diamond into six hundred and seventy nine pieces.
What about those?
I want to hear you brush the teeth of the Governor,
Skip across the Atlantic,
Recite the entire Lord of the Rings Trilogy sideways,
Shave the light off the car window,
Decorate a ravine with peacock feathers.
Can you comply with my requests?
Clutching at Straws 