summer visits me in
the wistless promise of spring;
childhood follows behind it like a
charmed lover.
i stand with bated breath
at the edge of a promise i have
left unfulfilled; i wait as if
the key lies in the hands of
me-two-years-ago.
i wait as a child waits for god,
as grief waits for tears.
i lose focus and see myself somewhere
that is not here
there is a lump of
poetry stuck in my diaphragm
and it
agefully curls and asks
after me as god waits for his child,
as tears wait for grief…
something to justify existence.
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