Two Poems

By Dante Fuoco

 

Arrival
Every day I am running late.
It means you stay, stay
longer than others

a friend tells me. I
like this friend. I wait
for her at a café

even though we’ve made
no plans to meet. I’m
always waiting for people

it seems. Once, or maybe
many times, I was waiting
for a sentence to end

for so long I thought
it never would, so I
left. But then it did

and I was late again.
My father says I used
to be nice. My college

friends don’t say a thing.
I’m waiting for the courage
to dawdle on the sidewalk

knowing full well how
infuriating this may seem
how inconsequential my gait

is in a world that is
tearing. In a world
that is tearing I am

waiting for love. That
is, I am in love. That
is: I never left the

room that held this love
despite my being
summoned away. Who

waits for their heart to send
itself away? No one, of
course, for love is its own

clock. I’m running late
because I like to stay.
I like ticking

the abacus into a song.
I like counting grains
of wood. I’d like

another piece of bread
please. He and I, we
stay in that room, our

own little city. We
take the butter, the kind
others lampoon, and

we wait for it to
melt into our wrinkles
into our hands.

 

Forecast
The wind callouses the world, I think

I think because the world calloused me
and never left a mark (only the thought of
one) that we can be whipped this way
and that and call it weather.

Dante Fuoco is a queer artist based in Brooklyn. Recently he staged the off-off-Broadway debut of his newest solo show no! i be seal. His first solo show, Transplant, was performed to sold-out crowds in New Orleans. The Saints + Sinners Festival has anthologized his fiction, and Amygdala, an ensemble he founded, improvised one act plays all through New Orleans. A nationally recognized educator, Dante coaches an adult LGBTQIA+ swim team and does restorative justice work in NYC public schools.