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,