Poetry from The Well

What I’m Waiting For

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I’m burrowing into my hometown like a splinter.

The closer the days drag me toward the move,

the deeper I bow my head. (All the while

my heart flutters with new wings, ready to

race the clouds, content to ride the breeze —

that wispy chariot.) I wait for someone to dig

me out of here, preferably in one piece.

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3 thoughts on “What I’m Waiting For

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