Prayer for a Victim Nobody Believes
It will be comforting to make a list
of things that do believe: the heart monitor,
the thin wand hanging from the blinds,
the dawn. You don’t need a body to appreciate
anything not the body; forgoing sense
may also comfort. Ultimately, you will have
to muster such fury at god your family
won’t be able to convince you otherwise.
They will stand away and let it occur,
bringing you tan pitchers of water, ringing
for a nurse to fluff the pillows.
And you will ask your bruises in what ratio
they figure into a larger plan.
You are not weak. You are nothing crumpled
on the side of any highway. And if
you need to pray to something else—sleep,
a clock, your childhood—go ahead.
Come to realize, as quick as you can, what god
deciphered long ago: whether or not
a heart seeks you matters little to your
continuing on. The darkness collects
in icy puddles on the sidewalks. The lock waits
to be seen like a father in the door.
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