Friday, December 01, 2017

Waiting is Not Heroic

An hourglass holds powdered marble,
 tightens its waist until grain by grain
 trickels through a constructed pathway
A wave stops midway, maintains a pose
The sun doesn’t yield to night
They wait for a letter still unwritten,
a storm force on its way, the telephone call
that may not ring, and a drip that pounds
—a drumbeat that interrupts sleep
Waiting, a historic thumbprint— 
We wait for our turn to speak
Silence is not a response


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