waiting for a date

with a black cat and her three kittens, waiting 

for the binding of my poetry book to dry,

waiting for the feel of blood dripping out of me

to cease. I can wait like an unsent text. I once

waited so long to give blood I passed out,

and the nurse said I should have spoken up.

Instead, I waited some more drinking o.j.

Now I wait for the housing market to level—

history says it needs a new president, but

I'm not holding my breath for these candidates.

So I wait for tomorrow when I wake to new

cereal and milk, which I stood waiting in line for.

I'm waiting for that moment to escape myself.

That moment, like these cats, may never come