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THE WAIT

Tensed,
Head well in,
Knees tucked up,
I steady
For the next spring
Forward

Sensing in the pause
Before break-out
How subtly
Codes are being encrypted
In the circuits of
Blood and bone.

At quieter times,
I hear roaring
Around me.
It may be the angry lapping
Of the sea,
Though sea is only
Rumour to me.
It could be the babel
Of the long-lost dead,
Marooned and calling me
To cancel out
Their silence.

I can do that.
I can fend off death
With clenched fists
I can.

I am on the move, a
Word translated.
At last stubborn vowels
Are taking shape.
I roll them
On my tongue.

(1978)