In Such Silence, Waiting
I am a desert gardener who gives
water to soft, bursting blooms.
Twenty years searching
and not searching, not for
completion, companion.
I lie back against cool petals
and my skin presses only
against my smooth clothes.
In all the world I believe
you are here, somewhere.
It is a matter of faith.
I have not seen
you anywhere, though
sometimes I don't look.
I say perhaps you
are quarrelsome today
or preoccupied
and simply tend
to other things.
It's possible, even,
I do not care
this moment
to join you.
It would take a God
to put us in the same garden,
but perhaps you are
near me already,
impossibly young,
improbably old.
Rain, invest me,
my bud is so fresh.
poetrymagazines' note: Roberta Burnett was nominated for The Pushcart Prize in creative-nonfiction, late in 2013.
Page(s) 14
magazine list
- Features
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- 14
- Acumen
- Agenda
- Ambit
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- Atlas
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- Chroma
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- French Literary Review, The
- Frogmore Papers, The
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- Iota
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- Lamport Court
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- North, The
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- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
- Poetry London
- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
- Poetry Review, The
- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Private Tutor
- Purple Patch
- Quarto
- Rain Dog
- Reach Poetry
- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
- Smiths Knoll
- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The