I want to live
in the Kentucky Ada Limón
knows. Where lady horses
win and words are no longer
stuck to the bottom of my
soul, fearing sharks in a river.  

She wraps in cashmere
to match White House
dinner, fabulous model
earned through brilliance
I most admire. I wish  

while wearing Chanel
to Keeneland, sipping Bloody
Mary, more intent on white
linen than betting odds.  

I resign my soul
to land surprising, enveloping
me in comfort more richly
than couture, more satisfying
than shrimp cocktail, even as  

I clutch my pearls.