It is 1:43 in the Afternoon

on a perfectly sanguine Friday in early July and I am watering the plants a little late today.

I don’t know why. I’ve been awake since 4.

I feel completely disconnected

I realize when I glance at the cable box to check the time because I am hungry all the sudden,

that I feel far, far too lonely for one person

to be while unprotected from the comfort of company.

It’s not that I want to die.

It just feels like one of a myriad of logical endings

to the evening until you get home.

Most people will never understand what it is to feel everything-

so much.


The silence is killing me.

The silence is killing me.

The silence is killing me.


The pitter-patter of rain begins to resuscitate me; from the shelter of the front porch

I wait for you.

A pendulum, I swing and swing and

look upwards and under

the trees.


I am reminded that every thing 

is enough.

It’s the reason you and I

are alive.


-Jesse Haydn




Published by Jesse Haydn Poetry

The written word is life. I am the proverbial poet-at-heart.

4 thoughts on “It is 1:43 in the Afternoon

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