Pre-Conception

My thoughts are beginning to recycle,
twisting around me like a vine
sprouting day dreams.

My mind is weary from these longful escapes,
lingering on you,
dwelling on the
empty basin,
hoping to fill it up,
waiting for an unforseen surge
to pummel and shake
the walls
of this hollow barrel
where your fingers and toes
will surely plug the holes of my heart.

But, I fear my directive charge
and all my profane and selfish tendancies.
I fear the glorified expectations
and my propensity for thirst and not drink,
the exhaustion that comes
from such a weighted wanting.


All Rights Reserved; Elizabeth Bohlander Wilson