’til next time

April 18, 2007

leaving tomorrow
in
one of those
places, i am wringing
my hands
cold and too dry
cracked
like the sky 
seams

what can i do?
i’m just
a girl 
waiting on
the edge of forever
waiting on
that something else —

i am sometimes
terrified
of the news and of you
and of what
i can’t quite
see/imagine/be

it’s not so bad,
is it?

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