Waiting

Sunlight tides, bathes 

the downturn of my eyes. 

Graciously, the dress falls 

to cover the legs. When I

close my eyes after 

being in the water,

I feel like I’m still 

floating how ocean foam 

feels like something you should 

be able to hold.

Each moment tastes like

salty air and sweet pea, 

a scent someone I loved once 

hated. Look, right after 

dawn, the sun rises. 

There’s a story: the Prophet 

said dawn is when 

you can distinguish 

the color of the black 

thread from the white.

Some people used string.

They would wait until 

there was enough light

to see which color was 

which. Others looked 

to the sky for the line 

of white just below 

the blue-black

of night’s end. 

Eventually, it was 

finally determined:

he meant the sky.