The Wait

by

 

Days draw out like hot glass
without end
Time waits action
and night birds cry no peace

I trickle around buildings
wincing before the light
or shadow in the night
I haunt dark streets
beneath the moon-clock sky

Organic time salamanders
over the earth in me
while eyes flick out
against dead buildings
and all about 

stupid traffic lights blink
incomprehension

 

First published in Cottonwood (formerly Cottonwood Review).

 

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