Last Night A Poet Saved My Life

In between the days
I am waiting
for the rain to stop,
the fruit in my kitchen ripens,
then rots. While the clothes
in my wardrobe
wait for me to lose
weight. The novel
inside me waits, while I
try to unblock
my fear. The womb
waits to be filled.
My insomniac self waits
for sleep to come.
In between days
waiting,
buses arrive,
planes take off;
summer comes and fades.