The Appointment

Not now

not yet

the moment is still throbbing

the corners still damp

the sun still heaving

the silence still speaking

talk to me when you listen

touch my hand with fingers dry

try

not to come with aspirations

walk in, just as you would

unannounced

startle me

wake me up

but before that, 

let my eyes droop

let my sight wash off

the grains of collective prism

and relish the blankness of vision 

let me not see

what is shown

let my senses navigate

touch - soft or coarse

smell - sweet or putrid

sound - reverberating or dead

do not chart a path ahead

or decide where to be

let us just arrive

somewhere

and hope

we meet