By Sue D. Burton

Featured Image: “Ancient of Days Setting a Compass to the Earth” by William Blake

that the Don’t Bore God note taped
to my desk just fell to the floor,
that I dreamt you gave me
a sandwich wrapped in a glove
& I ate the glove,
that I was mortified even
in my dream?

That the pony I always wanted
I never got. Piebald.
I would’ve called her Cowboy.
Was that the problem?
That I feel you sweating in the night
& I’m afraid.
That I’m afraid to tell you
in the morning.
That my friend Lewis says
my name in Mandarin
is shuōbùtōng, which
means talk no communicate.
That Samuel Beckett
& I have the same initials.
(Let’s go. We can’t. Why not?)
Both born April 13.
That my fortune cookie says, Bite me.
That I hear you crying in the night.
That a shaman in the Colombian rain forest
told my friend Megan,
I’ve been waiting for you.
That once a psychic told me she saw piles of paper under my desk.
That once a guy at a bar said,
Don’t I know you from someplace?
That years after the funeral
my father says he misses me,
that I still see him
walking down the street.
His back always to me.
That the famous Lama said to Lar,
What took you so long?
God, I don’t want to bore.
Just give me some kind of sign.

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Sue D. Burton’s BOX, selected by Diane Seuss for the Two Sylvias Press Poetry Prize, was awarded Silver in the 2018 Foreword INDIES Poetry Book of the Year and was a finalist for the Vermont Book Award. She also authored Little Steel (Fomite Press) and was awarded Fourth Genre’s Steinberg Prize. She’s a physician assistant, lives in Vermont.

Originally appeared in NOR 11.