The Wait of My Name

Touching you—

making it feel as if nothing 

is real except for my hands.

The way they cloud your

judgment, hazing your

thoughts in my name’s wait.

Rivers of blood bending and

merging through your veins,

pulsating into your basin.

Heartbeats unruly,

drumming the reaction of your

curled toes and clenched fists.

The best isn’t over with,

as it sits in abandonment 

anticipating the arrival of us.

But there is no rush to get

where we were already going—

to hear you say my name.

—JG  ©2026