I have reworked the poem I posted last night. I think it’s better than it was. Let me know if you agree.
When I’m alone, I listen to water.
My brother sleeps and my dog
sleeps but I am awake.
The moon is full, and the sky
is crossed by sleeping jets.
I remember I am loved.
Time is running out so
I sit on the bed, waiting.
Time will come for me.
It will not forget me, leave me.
It waits behind the door until
I arrive. It sleeps in the sink.
Tick-tock, it drips all night.
Time hides in shadows
through the dappled afternoon,
sleeps and stretches like a cat.
I smell it in exhaust,
in fruit cut yesterday,
in my shampoo.
I wait by myself for time to emerge
from my dusty luggage, to appear
in folded sheets, to speak among
long blades of exhausted grass.
Waiting by J. Kyle Kimberlin is licensed
under a Creative Commons Attribution-
NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.