It’s not that I
don’t want you.
Almighty Forbid.
May that not be taken for prayer.
It’s just that
I don’t want you
right just now.
If I were having
guests over for lunch,
would I tell them to come
at 10am?
They’d eat their fingers
while I chopped onions.
I want there to be
stories ready
for when you arrive.
Of how we went and got new
tongues in Damascus,
a rich world of words
that would be part of your inheritance,
Before we wrap and bundle you,
I want reams of my written to coddle you.
It’s not that I’m selfish,
but selfless.
I want there to be more of me
to give to you.
It’s not that I
don’t want you.
I even have a name
for you.
“One who guides”
But not right now.