I don’t mind waiting.

Flowers fade.
The stripped stem lowers,
broken.

It is beauty that I’m after.

Sleepy-eyed, golden-snaked,
you slip away. A fissure furrowed
in the stone is breaking in the heat.

Around you shy clouds wheel
immeasurably distant
but between them cliffs are falling.

Trapped, you hesitate.
A dry blood loosens in your mouth. You know you’re dying
and at last I can’t help waiting.