Waiting for Don’t Know

Caffeine headache tugging at my eyebrows

the sky still dark when only a few days ago it would have been light

at the same time

littlest cat molded into my arm

even though she knows the RULE about not getting up when I am writing

I’m just giving her (and myself) a break but she’ll probably just take advantage

scheduled surgery fallen into place

I had hoped something would come up to prevent it but that was not to be

so now I  soon will be the recipient of a new breast

courtesy of my stomach

look out everybody, on New Year’s  Eve

I’ll make your eyes goggle at my new cleavage

And summer has already faded into a slurred memory

it all happened while I was editing

but that’s okay

I have any number of previous summers to remember instead

little apples on the tree in the front yard

are no longer the size of chestnuts and nearly resemble the real thing

it’s almost time to put the garden to bed, even though

I never got around to waking it up in the first place

rose bush grows undisciplined  and along with weeds

stray cultured lily gives it all a pretense of respectability

a loose cavity reminds me I need to make a dreaded call to the dentist

laundry still piled up, waiting to be done

And I’m waiting for Don’t Know.   

Janet Bellinger

c 2006