I am waiting for the Word to crash upon creation, making ancient stars flare in skies this night.
I am waiting for God to confess his frailty, in his world of fraud extolled and innocence condemned.
I am waiting for those chords of Hallelujah, their blistering arcs of ice-redeeming zeal.
I am waiting for my leaders to repent the chaos of their devising and hang their prideful heads or merely hang.
I am waiting for Nobel to cite my surname and for the ruined one to heal and be named too.
I am waiting for another chance at childhood if I only had the key to topple time.
I am waiting for the spider spinning silk inside my letterbox to teach me all the ways it might be done.
I am waiting for the gecko flicking gold around my bathtub to shed its gleaming scales upon my brow.
And in the purgatory of waiting
I hang helpless in its gridlock,
in this never-ending wait
to stop the waiting…