Last night I woke up to my body,
a constellation of pain.
Each joint, elbow, knee, wrist and
ankle, every finger a glowing
star of ache.
I would say it more plainly,
but the body dreams in galaxy
and heat when plagued with fever.
This morning I woke to a throat
cracked as a rainless plain,
head as full of water as a young coconut.
No part able to give or take
what was needed.
The day passed slow,
with no lights on,
I could not read,
I was not hungry.
I let the movies run their course
and day dreamed myself through
New Mexico, through Minnesota,
through multiple personalities
and part of a sermon about forgiveness.
When the living room was no longer lit
by the sun from the backyard,
I put on the grey pants still hanging
from the bed, and the red lipstick
standing on my night stand.
My chest worked hard against me
from Avenue C to 2nd.
My body did not want to leave bed,
the couch, home.
Tonight I fall asleep with medicine
in my body, a war against the stars.
I am praying for a black sleep without
dreams or a moon.
I am praying for rain in the morning.