Elizabeth Gomez: Waiting; The Lover

He thinks to himself,
there was a time
when time had hands.

Hands that tenderly
swept seconds away
from a well-crafted face.

He thinks to himself,
there are no more hands,
only digitized numbers.

Numbers in varying shapes,
sadistically suspending time,
until a minute passes.

To wait for time to pass,
until waiting
is no longer necessary.

He thinks to himself,
she’ll be here.
Imagines his hand, her face.

Her hand, his face,
time disappears,
this is the only time.

The only time that exists,
The only time that matters,
The only time that she is with him.

He thinks to himself,
when did the present
become the past?

He holds onto the past,
counts his breath,
until it is time again.

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2 Comments

  1. One New Years Eve my wife went into labor.
    I sat breathed with her at the hospital.
    One eye on the clock, hoping to have another tax exemption to report by April 15th for the prior year.
    I watched the sweep seconds hand take away my exemption.
    And we named my son Johnny Come Lately at 1:30 AM
    New Years Day.

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