I want to drink my freedom like
from the hands and bodies and mouths of
other people, not lock it in a cask to
age and turn rancid. I haven’t yet held
I would forsake all other bodies for, haven’t drank
of a flower that would make all other flowers seem
pale and limp
by comparison. My skin hasn’t been
caressed by the
eyes and voice
that I would feel
I want to be kissed by the
suns first rays
as I lay down to go to sleep, I want to keep
in her solitary guard company. I want to
dance in the rain
with only my hair and arms and those of others to
clothe me. I want to be the colors of the
I want to walk barefoot through the
alkaline flats of the desert and
burn. I want to
a stranger in a strange land,
to learn as I did as a child, to be
I want to swim in waters the
color of my eyes
and drink wine like
I want to dive into waterfalls and
land in the trees. I want to be
bruised and battered,
to be in pain so that I know
I want to be
I want to form my life again and
again from the
raw clay of my soul.
I want my eyes to burn with tears.
I want to know the smalls of my lovers’ backs,
the hollows of their hips,
the points of their jaws,
the backs of their knees,
the palm of their hands.
I want to be held in the strength of a
hurricane and ripped apart by
tornadoes. I want to know
and make her a friend and a lover,
she’ll leave when I need her most.
I want to make love to a bank of moss,
I want to pass
in a crowded room.
I want to jump double dutch,
weaving in and out.
I want to know the untouchables,
learn their stories, drink their tears and
bask in their
I want to march to my own drum beat and
dance to no one’s music save that of the
pounding of my heart and the
(c) 2000, Teri Lyn Hinds
“Ambrosia” was written in the summer of 2000. It was a reaction to the contradiction between where I was at that point in my life and where several of my friends were. It’s worth noting that I lied when I wrote this one, even though I didn’t know it then.