Right now, you are untested hypotheses,
Question marks left hanging at the ends of
Sentences in my body’s unanswered prayers.
Or perhaps you are some other woman’s
Future anxiety, her unresolved ellipses,
Her worried hope, and my
Joyful exclamation. Or, and
I hesitate to speak it lest it be so,
You may be impossibilities, erased
Words out of the next blank pages
Of my story. I do not, cannot, will not
Know until my plot thread catches
Up with the Writer’s scribblings.
Until then, my darlings, we wait.