I am waiting on myself
watching my figure resting
agitated soul not translating to agitated body
In fact, I am tired
my bones heavy like my mother’s gold
heavy like the laundry basket
or a spoon waiting in the dishwasher
just as I am, unloaded
I am waiting to rise
to feel zest and to feel action
I want to move but I sit
I sit and I imagine myself making things.
_
SA