Tag Archives: waiting

Waiting Room

I am not impatient this time
waiting for my turn
to lay back in the chair and open wide—
there are children whispering loudly
and bells dangling from the door
announcing everyone’s exit and entry
but it all goes on without me
like the volume is turned way down
on just another reality TV show—
I am lost in yesterday.
I am full of the heat that followed us
into the woods and I can only hear
the song of the warblers,
those black and white ones
who provided our sound track
as we kissed on the fallen hickory—
and after I am rattled into alertness
by the sound of my name
I’ve got nothing to do for 15 minutes
but close my eyes
and let both my hands rest on my belly
while I consider where you’ve touched me—
and I don’t even need five fingers to count
the number of times we’ve made love
but in this noisy and populated darkness
I am alone with your body
and we are filling up our hands.







Still Life

The thing is—
he could
he can
he does
cut me open
just by leaving
me alone
when the space
between us
begs to be
by a word
or a promise
of nearness
but there is
so much
filling me up
I don’t know
if there will be
room for him
when he—
he decides
to come.






“Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog” by Caspar David Friedrich, 1818


Be my guide into twilight—
lead me to a place
where I can at last lay down
against your warm bare skin
long enough for all our fears
to float away before I touch
your lips with mine—
and when you pull me close
I will finally breathe again
after this long wait is over
and you will find the kind
of love you told me once
you never thought you’d have.






“The Romance of Tristram and Iseult” by Maurice Lalau, 1909


I float into the night
how you will feel
when there is nothing
between us
but warm water
and skin so lonely
we will need
to cover each other
with tenderness
to help ease
the exit wound
that will follow us home
after we pick up
our blankets
from the forest floor
and kiss goodbye.







“Sun Shield” Andrew Wyeth, Watercolor 1982

I Will Wait

I know what you’re thinking—
you’re wrong.
You are mistaken to believe
that I am all impulses and urgencies
and that anyone could satisfy
this heart-shaped ache.
You aren’t just another conquest
or a bridge that I will cross and burn.
You are the enormous expanse
I have waited my life to explore—
full of depths and heights
and waters so clean and clear
I can see myself in your reflection—
and I will wait for you to see yourself
in mine.







you want the mountains
so badly
you have to throw
your car keys across the room
and cover your face
with both of your hands
for an entire minute
and hope you have the will
to walk over to the mantle
and look at the photo
of your second-grade son
who would become
as unstable as ash
if you decided
you couldn’t wait
another ten years
before you walked out
on every promise
you ever made—
so you stumble through
another day
that isn’t heaven
but is nowhere close to hell—
and you commit
to another decade,
day by day –
knowing your beloved child will,
by then,
have his own beloved—
his own set of hearts
to start breaking—
and his own gray mountain
looking glorious
in the dark blue distance.

DeMaris Gaunt