The Wait (3/22/16)

  • in my skin

    bated
    breath
    held

    letter
    poised
    to paper cut
    deep

    I hold it in,
    I hold it


    perfectly
    (barely),

    a taught piano wire,
    an ecstasy

    of potentials
    threatens to unfurl,
    a millisecond
    from dreaded release,

    a loaded gun,
    suspended razor,
    a pregnant moment
    before lead
    rips through skin.


    Time stands
    still.

    a well-worn
    hammock
    sways and wrinkles

    with the whispering breeze.

    a seduction,
    a sin, a precipice,
    a far off dream.

    Time laughs.

    the faintest candle
    in this dark tunnel

    flickers,

    maternal
    breath threatens
    to quell--


    thick-skinned
    this phoenix
    will not extinguish.

    like lighter fluid,
    the vitriol
    slides right off
    her oiled back.

    crying into the night sky
    (pain gives rise to flight),
    she transcends darkest night.