The Art of Expecting

speak if the spirit moves you holler if it possesses you and won’t let go cry out if you are all-consumed

i will understand if you are silent i have hardly spoken myself these long months ever since we stopped scrying for a second pink line

the sun slips fast across the sky the nights pass reluctantly the radiators hiss our child restless within stretches and squirms we see the shadow of a limb pass by your navel

in another life child i may have traveled the world in another life i may have taught at universities but i can leave all that aside until i’ve seen your face