I once grieved beneath insistent deadlines.
Looming, sharp, pointy expectations brushing

my head. The world holding its breath
between life and death as if I held

the cutters, trembling, over the blue
no red no yellow wire. But what have I

ever so urgently accomplished that couldn’t
have waited one more? Waited for a second

opinion, for Christ’s return, for waffles,
for forests to reclaim the Earth for

my fingers circling the length of your
back as we fall asleep?