M I R I A M

Vera Linn


I wanted someone who was gentle
to come like a medium wind, blowing out
the unformed, half-made parts,
full of spice, a person who�d let me
ask lots of questions, until my need to listen
went dry and I started talking.
Someone worth listening to for hours,
someone I could open my mouth with.
Nothing creepy or harmful.
Someone who would like me the right amount.

Do I still want that?
The table is cleared,
the pantry is full of food,
there�s clean water in the pitcher.
The flowers bloom, bloom.

I wish that friend
would come on a long journey,
dust in her sandals.
Or I wish that friend would arrive
through letters in the mail,
ten pages of handwriting
and butterflies, drawings
of what it looked like that night
or of the friend�s lover or cousins,
I don�t know. I wish she
would make herself known
quietly, I wish she�d show up already.