Three Poems

Being Patient

Brilliant, in white, he lies, still in the wings
Of his own life. Someone will speak his name.
He knew that once. Be patient. Life's a game.

Now is the time to claim him. He's inside,
Waiting for you to come. Ignore the mess,
Those yowling cats. It's always been like this.

Sometimes he sleeps until way after three.
No, he won't mind. He'll sleep another time.
I tell you, step inside. It'll be fine.

Circling himself, he wants to wrap his fee -
lings in a gauze of light, to blow through doors
As if he owned no body any more...

He wants, in short, no more than what he sees:
This courtyard opening onto afternoon,
Those flower heads bobbing in a bowl of leaves...
...