In My Next Life
I will own a cottage warm
as eyes of fire
and roam the deep woods
of the forest just past a village.
In my next life I will bake some bread,
and enjoy the floury scent
of the air as I run our bakery
and settle down with relief
by its register.
I’ll be a whiz at fashion, master five or six
new creative skills, be carefree
like the grandparents in movies always say.
In my next life I won’t lie awake
wondering why I hate the way I am.
I’ll still be fun and outgoing, but true
I will find you again
and again–just like this time