This is a prayer I’ll write under my skin
so I don’t have to share with gods I don’t believe in.
It will be so powerful I will light lamps with it
amongst the nightmares in my blood
to scare them out through the breath in my nose.
I tried to convince myself that love poems don’t matter.
That I am worth more as fire than I am pillow soft
under someone else’s fingers.
But the universe made me a void
into which sink the little ships of daily hopes
and contempt provided shoddy work on the life preservers.
And hatred was a greedy eater.
And envy left me for another.
Quietly I crept into the room in which love resided,
and prayed with my eyes open
staring upwards like the proverbial man in the desert.
No help comes like dust circling down from the ceiling,
instead it trickles through the blood.
Listen? Can’t you hear the life you have,
being lived inside your veins.
What great love does not start by stopping up
the bathtub drain, black hole void at the center of one’s being?
My prayer says love keeps the flood at bay.