You’re here now
so I’ll drink the coffee as black as it comes
and keep bruised knees
that never have the chance
to fade to yellow.
There will be good days,
and there will be rain-days
when all we can do
is open our palms to the sky
and offer our skin as a resting place.
I said a prayer on New Years Eve
to a little plastic Jesus who was frosted over
on the dirt lawn of a dirt-church
and with his marble eyes rolled back
he and I were looking at the same star overhead.
I’ve got the North to thank
for your fingers trailing my inner thighs.

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