Right With the World

Michael Channing

unfamiliar with the usual posturing
i prayed from my chair
over coffee
to the squinting moon that followed me home
and the trees gathered at the window
to the wall of shadows deep at the door
even to the pair of parchment wings
stumbling into the glass
i have something to ask of your maker
and because prayers are nothing like poems
i simply said
keep her safe
then i washed my empty cup
undressed and curled into bed
drew into the warmth of her breathing
and listened for the wind to reply

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