In honor of the fourth annual Bloggers’ (Silent) Poetry Reading (which I participated in in 2006, 2007, 2008), this year you get a Very Special Treat.

A poem that I wrote.

This is a rare, rare thing. I like poetry in small, tiny doses, but usually don’t feel compelled to write it myself. The only time I do is usually during times of emotion stress–times when prose just isn’t expressive enough. And of those few that I’ve written, there are really only two that I’m proud enough to let anyone see. One that I wrote after losing Katy, and this one, which I wrote on August 24, 2001. (You can probably figure out what I was waiting for, if you work at it.)

Anyway, here you go:

WAITING

By Deb Boyken

Anticipation tingles up my arms,
Dancing with light feet across my skin.

Anticipation plays up my spine,
Producing trills and thrills of a shudder arpeggio.

Anticipation shoots across my face, tiny stars
Burning my features into a taut mask of warmth.

Anticipation spurs my heartbeat,
Trying to hasten the minutes ticking slowly by.

Anticipation runs down my legs,
Racing muscles against tortoise time, crumpling my knees.

Anticipation races through my fingers,
Making them slip and stumble in their regular tasks.

Anticipation clenches my stomach,
Twisting fingers through my gut, pulling me forward.

Anticipation beats in my head,
Booming the rhythm: “not yet, not yet, not . . . ”

Anticipation stirs me, wakes me, numbs me, taunts me, frets me, mocks me.

My friend. My foe.

This morning’s constant companion.

An endless “soon” to live through, and then . . . !

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