Sagging; Obsession by Emily De Angelis

Sagging                      

good things do not come

to those who wait

forever and ever

epoch

upon epoch

of eagerness

expectation

anxious anticipation

of breathlessness

it is frustration

anger and

resentment

that come to those who wait

without relief

without hope

even without promise

same beastly breathlessness

lives come and go

births, deaths and births again

stifled song

and the goodness

still out of reach

fingertips

stretched over a lifetime

of dreams deferred

I have this obsession…

with tall towers

looming high above

water’s surface

some stone

some brick

some white clapboard

trimmed in red

lights lit

by wood

coal

candle

or oil

burning in brazier

and lamp

reflected by and through

polished glass

a mariner’s warning

over black seas.

I have this obsession…

with lives of keepers

isolated on lakes

and oceans

high over cliffs

exposed to wind

and weather

frozen in for winter

by cold air

through cracks in walls

or swept away to sea

during massive storms;

wives and children

death and injury

all carefully recorded

in keepers’ logs

pages marked with

mercury fingerprints

as sanity and safety

seep into rocks

along the water’s edge.

       I    h a v e   t h i s    o b s e s s i o n .   .   .