Praise the book of a woman to ease me into
stasis, to an understanding of my own mind through
a sixty year old’s… praise the shirt that smells like me when I was good and happy, praise me finally letting my mother touch me after twenty years… praise my back to him… praise the rose petals from that night resting in an empty tea bottle…praise the words that fly out my mouth like feathers… praise the moment I first wanted to write
and give birth to something great… praise me changing my hair color… praise the Uilleann pipes that take me back to a life I don’t remember but am sure I lived…praise the future I think I know as I open my eyes and see the first moments of dawn sneak in my room, the first douse of orange like how it looks to a bear at the zoo when all the people go home.

11/25/2004

Posted on 11/25/2004
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