60 times in one minute
then 48 my heart uttered a loud pulse
nearly without pain at all.
I read in one sitting 42 poems that spoke
so kindly of survival as if it were waiting
rather than work.
I did not wait out pain,
I chewed on its sharp edges and choked them out.
Put them back between my teeth,
and chewed again.
Between bed sheets, sanitized and rough
or bed sheets, thick and satin,
I certainly construct some appropriate self
on the get-through-its of dark skies.
There is no don’t-lose-faith-in-me
for the lonelies of the world.
There is a bouquet of
Pleads as if they were lilies.
That is why we are so easily disguised as simple.