Room
Here
in this room I will wait, god, for you to come.
Here,
like a package in brown paper,
left until
called for near a baggage cart on the train platform.
Here,
like a child at the window,
who watches
too long for her mother to return.
Here,
in this interior room of my soul,
bare of
furnishings, doorless,
with grey
cracked walls and floorboards left unfinished,
I will wait.
My
mask, richly painted, has nothing behind it.
I
cannot find you by seeking.
I
cannot see you by looking.
You
will come to this real place inside me.
You
will come to this dry room.
Will
you come soon?
JMC
1995