waiting – Wen-Juenn Lee

On the phone, we read Jane Austen fanfic
agree the shirt you wear at the airport
will be crisp & white, so that it crinkles
when you hug me.

Desire, I have learnt, is the
privilege of details; that is, I count
minutes by condensation on shower walls
how our calls always begin
with static, this crack & hiss of
can opening, your mouth fizzling
& mine saying, there you are.

there you are, unpeeling
the routineness of day
in a darkened room—
why is it I love you the most
when I picture you alone?

When my mother feeds me soft-boiled eggs
your letters arrive in hi-vis orange
like yolk waiting to be stretched apart &
maybe feeling the solidity of myself
lies in the alchemy of heat
where the minutes emerge embryonic
& I think, there you are.

This poem is part of the Amazing Poetry Race. Discover all five poems by exploring the City of Port Phillip.
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