Gone From the Boat, Far From the Ocean 5, v.03

You've got to wait for it--
you can't force it or make it--
it comes like a bud
to bloom on the sill of your window

you never knew, never noticed until now:
the bud becoming something,
coming out of nothing
Something

You've got to wait for it
for the realization:
"This is real. He is gone."

for the nuclear blast in slow motion
the flow made entirely of things

you can never say to him
never see that
incredulous sidelong glance,
sincere and honest laughter
pushing out of his body

it creeps up on you
close enough to squint at and ask,
"What is that?"

you have to wait for it
to get closer
to come to you,
into you, all around you
creeping

Like Sisyphus, you push it
force it to happen

Thinking that standing
on the tracks
is enough to stop the train

Pushing raw egg
with both hands
into a broken shell

Borrowing a car
driving through the foggy night
windows down
weaving through every street
calling the name of your runaway dog

You've got to wait for it
to burn out completely
leaving a rubbed-raw spot
a plot of bare blackened earth