“i tell myself that once i make it to tomorrow, i will get up
with the gold glow of the sun, tighten my scarf
against the restless cold, & walk to the nearest
grocery store. i will buy the biggest box of strawberries
i can find, sit on my kitchen floor, eat them
with my hands all in one shot.
like a child or like god,
i will stain some things red on accident.
& still the foam-mouthed seas will churn
under the gaze of the moon, & cardinals with snow-
brushed wings will nestle themselves into pine
branches the way a heart nestles itself into the ribs,
& still i will have my laughter, yes, even when pain
fills up my pockets like stones.
but isn’t that the miracle?
i was close enough to the river to kiss it, & i went home
anyway. home, where it is so easy to spill
sugar on the counter, drop tea leaves on the floor,
forget splinters of cinnamon sticks & find them later
behind the kettle, your mess the proof that you
were not a ghost here but a body, solid & awake
& true. home, where it is
so easy to make a big joy
from a small strawberry, to hold that sweet-
ness in your mouth, its red as bright as wanting. its red
that says, & how much more joy can we hold in another
year, another decade, a whole recklessly beautiful life?”
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