Waiting    -     Sally Brucker

I'm waiting
for the kettle
the boiler-inspector
the test results
your phone-call

The steam of our double-cappuccinos
thrice last week
rising
entered my nose
went
straight to that impenetrable
tangle of weeds
choking my heart

No force was applied
no breaking or entering
just some implausible
sweet froth
breathing on
fresh roots
I'd hate to admit

You asking about dreams
me wondering
if this is one of those
feathery- escapes
into
the positive
possibility realm where
waiting is
finally
(l)over

Until much later
This dream
waning
to
the probability of sleep
this body
still
rising,
backs
down

to
the half-painted room
down the hall
where
the kettle simmers
the boiler inspector never shows
the test results get lost
Your call

And
waiting
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