Blink
The light enfolds me now
like a whisper of thoughts
rushing across the door frame.
I wait

Still
Your echoing thunders in my veins,
Distancing our shadows
like the shortened ends
of autumn days.

Scrape…
Like your yawn
down emptied phone lines.
where silenced hearts
call out, rendered behind dusty stone walls

Listen…
Memory is lapping at the pavements.
And fear disguises itself
beneath pink frosting
in Italian cake shops
3 doors down.

waiting

I shift between lightness and being…
as though it was the change from wine to beer.
Daringly and not without consequence!

I hand-ball my grudges to the back of the room
and watch them bounce off the china-ware.
Shattered attempts aching to become a self-indulgent mosaic…
I crush teacup handles beneath boot as I head for invisible doors.

Met with missing door handles
I poke my lips through and holler for attention
“Feed me”
“I’m bored!!”

White-jacket nomads pace the corridor
as though they have somewhere better to be!
So I weep a little,
but tears can’t be heard through door handle holes.

“Time to start digging!”
I announce aloud
and the whistling winter
acknowledges my thoughts from beneath the door.

It’s the waiting I could never stand!