Speaking of Want

by Sarah Dickenson Snyder


I spend my time wishing,
stilled like the covered
kneaded dough I place
near the wood stove,
how want rises
when not expressed
into a burden or someone
to run from, a passenger
on a train I pass by
but there are no other
empty seats so I sit
with want, talk to her
calmly, explain about need,
help her see how crazy
she makes me
and then off she goes
eventually, forgetting
a few of her possessions—
an umbrella I don't need
and a pen I didn't know
how much I’d want.


* * * * *

Sarah Dickenson Snyder has written poetry since she knew there was a form with conscious line breaks. She has three poetry collections, The Human Contract (2017), Notes from a Nomad (nominated for the Massachusetts Book Awards 2018), and With a Polaroid Camera (2019). Recently, poems appeared in Rattle, Lily Poetry Review, and RHINO. She has been nominated for Best of Net, was the Poetry Prize Winner of Art on the Trails 2020, and a 2021 Finalist in the Iron Horse Literary Review’s National Poetry Month contest. She lives in the hills of Vermont. sarahdickensonsnyder.com