sitting, two years later,

in the james center starbucks, i
am distracted by the business
which parades in suit, by
the slow, slow sound

of winter dying, its feeble thuds
keeping time with my own unarmed
chest. there is a meek half-light
outside the windowed-walls,

the sun un-warm & indecisive.
i am afforded a first-class view
of the parking garage,
the crimson-awninged atm,

the bundled cafe umbrellas.
i am waiting, brokenly:
for a car crash, for a lightning strike,
to see someone i recognize.

for you to catch hold
of my cheek and say, come,
let me take you home.
it is more limbo than

purgatory, the waiting;
there is no redemption at its end,
only the promise of a flatter
mattress and yellowed teeth.

as the poet said: there
is evening, there is morning,
and i think i loved you better
when we were

desperate. besides i
quit being a good catholic
years ago, now only
remember my rosary

when digging through
the jewelbox for a gold
chain you also didn’t give me,
also years ago.

This is kinda a re-make of a poem i did about two years ago, posted wayyy back here.

32 thoughts on “sitting, two years later,

  1. More than a decade later, I repeatedly make the attempt, only to fall again and return to the waiting.
    Funny thing, I no longer know what I am waiting for, as what I envision seems to no longer exist.
    I am not sure that it ever did…

    e

  2. A perfectly timed poem. With the dreary weather to set the stage for the word pictures you wove so beautifully. I particularly liked:

    the sun un-warm & indecisive

    it is more limbo than

    purgatory, the waiting;
    there is no redemption at its end,

    Lovely

  3. It is more limbo than

    purgatory, the waiting
    there is no redemption at its end,
    only the promise of a flatter
    mattress and yellowed teeth…..Joanna, I love the lines…the desperation, the realization . Sad …it draws me in, good write. I like the mention of the rosary and not being a good catholic and digging for the chain that was never given.

  4. for a car crash, for a lightning strike,
    to see someone i recognize….and i think i loved you more when we were desperate….ugh….it is different…waiting sucks…stuck in limbo as well…been there …and its not a lot of fun….

  5. As always, you make the longing, the razor sadness a gorgeous, enviable state. It’s limbo, of course, and the Catholic iconography only helps to underscore how dear and true this pain is to your soul. A flatter mattress and yellow teeth – bril, as is the closing – where we all spend many years still looking for the fantasies that were never there to begin with. Please post a pic of you wearing your La Poetessa tiara. Loved this and the massive talent what wrote this – Mosky

    • isn’t that a poet’s job, to make the sadness an enviable state, to make the pain, art? sublimation is what we do, Mosk. 🙂 thanks for your always too-kind estimation. and i am still looking for that right tiara. 😉

    • thank you, Dick. that first part of your comment, “wonderfully jaded, world-weary romanticism,” feels like it about sums me up these days, perfectly. if i ever get this next collection of poems together, will you do me a review? *smiles*

  6. Something about this piece conveyed a well-worn familiarity, like I was in conversation with an old friend. This was beautiful, and sad– the quiet sadness you feel in the midst of the realization you are growing older; have already left so much behind.

Thoughts?

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