when? how soon? and how much longer until?
I wait for something I cannot name,
a great antecedent unknown to me.
my eyes are red with watching.
the familiar objects of my life
seem suddenly to be hiding something:
cushions, cars, the mailbox.
I would move the clouds and rearrange the trees
if I could, just to see.
from what direction will it come?
I look everywhere.
sometimes I am almost certain it has arrived:
a shortness of breath, a quickening sense,
then nothing, waiting still.