52

52 weeks I will have waited

For the man in green

In the middle of the field

6 minute allotments

Never enough to finish

Even one conversation

We live worlds apart

But tarred by the same brush

I wonder who you are now

The man I never knew

The time goes slow

Visits took two days of travel

And one week of recovery

Time was counted 

Down by months

Until the day will come

When my time will be done

-Camille Delaquise

This poem appears in Behind the Facade, Camille’s debut contemporary poetry collection. 52 speaks to the long ache of separation shaped by institutional control — where love, identity and belonging are reduced to brief, inadequate fragments of time.