To wait is to attend, is to
witness neon, flashing bowls of candy ribbon,
doors revolving, the way starlings swirl, their murmuration,
re-turning to the soot of long closed chimneys.
The warmth of the space momentarily holds a fur coat over
any sense of urgency.
All of us: the grinning face in bronze, the broken clock, over
the door and I, quietly. Reflect.
Swirl in, and outwards, innocent threads,
Sand-filled laughs, of
Here, marble deflects what is both where you’ve been, and a
Door pushed, resists, as
Though it wasn’t you to enter or departure,
then gives way, and more than anything wants to bring you back.
Bring you back.