So this is that bleakness, that nighttime pit, that winter
cruelty. So this is the star canopy. I walk away
from your yellow home afraid of the trees,
how they look up. I try to pray just like them. I’m
desperate. The only things I know are love and fear
and what it’s like when those are just one thing. The only
thing I know is the air, that space between desire and
fulfillment. I hear every being around me: the snow,
the sky, those trees. Or: I give them voices. How beautiful
they sound. One million miracles. In this state, I’ll believe
anything they tell me.