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Who will be waiting (Emma)

I’ve left the country
                and my keys
In our apartment
                      In my escape.

I’ve forfeited the surprise
The sensual, dark, mysterious entry.

The fact is
           (after all these weeks)
                    you will have to be up
Wake up and
             let me in.
I left inspired, home-ragged and Joey called.
Pining for something, someone, frustrated.

You knew this
    Still you packed me
                             With a full belly
Hair grease, bacon on chin
You let me go.

Now, who will be waiting?

(An orchestra of stinging questions buzzes in my chest)

Will the singing woman and the humming friend,
Wag tail, spread, lick, rock, embrace?

Will the bookshelf stand bare, fertile
Beckoning my gifts?

Who will be waiting
Banged or straight ?
Blonde, black, or blue ?
Bespectacled or not ?
                     leashed or free?

Clean or true?

Will forgiveness stand by
Will understanding kiss the
unshaven cheek, the salt powdered shank?

No. Fury and brimstone
Dirty dishes
And fallen refrigerator magnets

The street is a voyage
The building a barbican.

Who will be waiting?
I buzz,
         Wait, then remember it’s broken.