Waiting

'
It starts
with a tingling,
my largest organ
first
- electrified,
my skin
burns -
then every neuron
grated
replies
post-scriptum
post-partum.

My feet
dance to
a tango
they thought forgotten.
It's been so long,
Penelope shouts
from inside me,
overtaken
I let her mourn
for all ladies-in-waiting.
We are
one
& the same.
Weaving our
solitary
despondency.
Confined,
yet free
to ride
the waves
of sacrifice -
from the blood
to the tears
shed -
we flow
overflow
& fill the space
unconquered
around us.
Every virgin territory
meaningless
when all
living interstice
must be filled
with expectation,
inseminated
with the desire
to overgrow.

Overreaching,
my heart
pumps
pure hybris -
anything
but waiting
waiting
waiting
- no mantra
can save it
from bursting at the seams.

I stand -
a mellow puppet
yearning for the strings.
'