I read the subject line:
RE: (POETRY) Human vs. Divine.
My stomach turns with anticipation
I forgot was there.
I message a friend, letting her know
a response has come. Nerves tingling, I wait until after seven to find out of 1700, finalist I am not.
They say the caliber of work
was exceptionally good this year.
They are grateful for a chance to read my work.
After maybe 5 rejections within months, I should have a thicker skin than this. Granted, I’m not bawling as I did with my first, but the tears came regardless.
Mother said over penne rigate tonight,
the next magazine I submit to, I must also submit the outcome to God.
The hardest lesson in life
is waiting without your will met,
your dreams on hold in hopes
something better comes along.