Finalist in the 2011 Alumni Poetry Contest
I want to occupy that small space
In the tear in your stocking
On your inner-right thigh.
I will send thousands of young men to their deaths
To claim a fingernail’s space on your thin calves.
I shall pour vast sums of money
Into winning the hearts and minds of the citizens that reside
In the tiny citadel
A quarter inch below your hem.
There shall be a complete coup d’état
Of the socio-political order
In the hills and valleys of your kneecaps.
Entrenched powers in your ankles shall convulse with fear
That relenting even one inch of your cool skin
Shall cause neighboring regions to fall
Into paroxysms of delight.
Their fears are misplaced, for I am no architect of upheaval.
I only want my small colony to build a summer dacha
Where I can drink coffee and watch the spectacle
Of your pitiless stride.
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