though it makes you feel better
i would rather a cluster
of dandelions just past their
yellow, to wisp my counter top
and in their vase,
illuminate the wishes i can make.
look, not god,
but the earth and weeds give me faith, and
sitting with the autumn leaves falling on
my chest, my heart. i believe in the
rabid foxes in my back yard, and the
people who will love me
like a boa constrictor loves a bunny.
don't pray for me. just bring me bouquets
of empty spiderwebs and stalks of wild
and unwanted, fistfulls of skeletons,
fistfulls of lived, and
walk with me
through the door half closed,
into the universe.