Poem: Long Wait

 

Long Wait 

 

flies traipse through web,

amused in the corner of a window,

the strands of feeble stickiness

merely a balcony.

 

death has abandoned

this tricky little chamber,

fled somewhere,

hibernating,

afraid of winter,

one cold certainty

bowing to another.

 

for in winter

little is left to die

and death must wait,

tucked in an eight-legged cocoon,

forced to sulk

till the prick of spring.

 

only then can it lunge anew,

a lurk of camouflage

in soft glaives of petals.

only then, riding the renaissance,

a vulnerable surge of jubilant art,

can it blush

 

but

 

until then

there will be no fanfaronade,

no feast,

 

only a trickle of icy gruel:

hocks of scrawny deer,

flies on a platter of frost,

a corpse or two

morgued from nursing homes.

 

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5/30 ... shortened  a line

5/28 .. changed a word

5/22/25 edited title