Longing is a ribbon full of knots.
It goes on and on.
I cannot see its start. Will I ever find its end?
If longing goes on forever, how can I be hemmed in?
You stand at the door and knock.
And I sit despondent leaning against it.
I’ll open it tomorrow.
The light will come in when I do. It will be beautiful.
Will you wait?
Will you still be there when I lift the latch?
Or will you have left?
It’ll serve me right.
When I call into the night, will you come back?
When I chase the lanterns, will one be yours?
Will you come and get me?
Won’t you come and get me?
Can’t you just come in here and get me?
Surprise me in the kitchen.
Find me at the sink, sweaty hair stuck to my forehead, suds up to my elbows.
Wrap your arms around me like a lover.
Pluck me from creation.
Coughed up by the sea, covered in salt and sand.
Pick me up and carry me to the car.
Spy me at your tent flap
in my flannel gown, peeking through the crack.
Grin, put down your quill and play.
Why are you cast down, O my soul?
He will lift your chin.
He has hemmed you in.
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