Don’t Wait by Meredith Blankinship

for me to alter your 
chemical makeup 
as punishment I will bike 
to your house
lay my clothes on 
the floor. Don’t wait to lash 
yourself to a 
silence. Don’t wait for 
the car to pull in
to the drive. Don’t
drop the phone. I
smell like a campfire
with these clothes on. 
Don’t listen to me. Don’t
drink that poison. 
Don’t wait for me to 
dry the stains
from each nickel in
your coin purse each
gravid tooth in your head.
Don’t wait for me
to come inside. I will 
degenerate in 
the face of my contemptible 
tracing. Don’t wait for 
motion to cultivate 
speed to blur
hardening 
to crystal. To salt. 
Like a mind in a salt, 
mine. Don’t wait 
for me to be fed. 
I will be 
waiting to be fed.