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. πŸ™‚ thanks for your always too-kind estimation. and i am still looking for that right tiara. πŸ˜‰

    • 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.

  7. This verse walks an infinitely narrow tightrope stretched above a sea of bitterness. I am in admiration of the images and metaphors, from the impersonality of suits, to the wayward rosary accidentally discovered. Beautifully crafted.

Thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s