ONE DAY, SOME DAY

One day it will

be my turn.

The spines

and sharp corners

will melt in heat

simmer, and each voice

will call out my name.

If I wait long enough,

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twiddle my fingers

like the flit of butterfly

wing, it will come,

as all good comes,

down like trailing

ivy. One day.

Someone will recognize

the dazzle of flower

hidden under the

fleshy skin of thorns,

climb the tower,

scale the shy petals

the color of sky and—

Go. Get a ticket.

Jump a plane.

Make one day, some day,

today.