WAITING

Right at the threshold of beginnings,
My bones drag heavy, my muscles clench;
To cross invisible doorways, at intersections of beings.

When the hairs on my spine rise
And time hasn’t arrived yet,
I see it stalled in traffic, one station out,
Hearing the countdown of arriving late.

Sitting still or pacing by the clock’s knock;
Tick-tack, tick-tack, toward the blissful
Boom, boom.

I can only sleep late and arrive before
The end that precedes the new;
The familiar thinning into void,
Into midnight blues, knowing
It has its eyes set on you.

Facing the gate of everything,
Wondering if the origin holds the key,
Tension splitting my veins Into branching roots.

If the origin doesn’t hold it,
I’ll force the turn...
And there, then, it is:
To twist my scavenged metal in the lock,
To release what I’ve been waiting for
Far too long.