Sliver of light, sliver
of light, sliver of
light!—God asked
a question and
split the room
in two. Tomorrow
I will wake up
when I wake up.
I will wear velvet.
I will embrace my
fruit-full gut as
dearly as I would
the one I am missing
so entirely even it hurts
to yawn, to sing,
to say aloud anything.
Glass glass after glass
of water I will drink
and grow ever glad,
and a light will land
on my forehead thin
like a memory,
confidently silver,
I will lift my hand.