harbinger

if only you were there

maple leaf, photo by debora Ewing

while I wait for you
I smooth two feathers
while I wait for you
I craft a poem
. . . while I wait

I gird myself with talismans:
a crystal, a ring, a rock in my pocket
each of them gifts
from friends or from crows
. . . wishing me peace
I wish you peace

the sun sets discontent
against my diaphragm and I
. . . wait for you to tell me
You don’t owe me anything
but this hole will eat me entire
. . . tell me you are there