a feeling I can't name

as he exits, excellently;
as the ball rolls
and the moon hugs the tide

hand
hesitantly on the helve

the wonderment,
the idiot

who he's exchanged a few words with

from behind the dotted line
that I envision

the upswing of human fear
and tending to be naked in it

if one thing
if it was all my heart had really thought for,
aside from to be useful, in my adult years

do I get, also, for it to end well?

the way envisioned
to climb over the dotted line

the wonderment
at him
the idiot sits
twiddles her thumbs

sinks in and in

I must be a child
waiting to be pulled to the air

if it will never feel quite right to want
I'll wait until I am wanted

and if the moment never comes,