We’ve been waiting for you.

Drivers in traffic lonelying along in the radio-narrated dark
and craving you, with your know-nothing
New breath–

Come closer.

We are denizens of a privileged geography–
and we are starving. You are the youngest year,
the only lucky thing left in the cupboard.

It’s almost time. The clock ticks us closer together.
Swoon our steps toward spring. Shine the blooms until
words flower in our mouths. Help us remember that
there is still the whole sky to swallow. Tell
the full moon to sing the wolves in our throats.