it’s hard to tell
the size of things
when I’m looking
through the window
of a plane
so high up
the clouds always
seem so soft and wonderful
and i think i’d like to
lie down and get lost
but when they are here,
on the ground
they are messymuggy
and daunting
and i have realized
something

the next time i fall in love
i hope to have both feet
on the ground

sometimes i feel
so strangely inside
that i wiggle
until the voices stop
and i can eat
and sometimes even that
is far too difficult

i pay to be powerful
to see the power
pulled
from the prostitute
and the mule
buy my time and
a precarious rule
i pay and i know
the blanket
can’t cover my soul
but it’s closer
than the whole
of all i’ve ever had

and this is when
i turn sad

but i know it’s not right
when i pay
and don’t fight
but if you only knew how
long these nights…

god, help
me learn
how to heal
a broken heart.

again.
amen.