Wait

Wait





Wait, moveless, I am coming
         Through myriad expectation, thwarted
         And other perniciously
redundant days

Unfolded,
         Spread before me,
redacted, and removed,
         Like rolling canvas’
and spilling paint.

He, G-d, drunk,
He.
With paint and brushes,
         waits me, not far
         in experience or time,
         and I am coming.
Wait.

         

Do not sketch
         The drunken night
         Whose shadowed
deep regrets
         Are empty convocations
         To empty Idols--
         Tearful on this canvas.

I hold secrets to fill brushstrokes
         and you hold secrets to
Deep brushstrokes
         for me.
         and G-d holds secret colors
He will spill upon us.
                   wait.