untitled #100

broke a nail on the fiber of that

cool blue blanket of night

fall

thinking I have been giggling

into the cathedral doorway for five-hundred
minutes, hello dusk,

not really a long time,

you say,
but to have a broken nail, oh, ages,
to splinter into mystic gloaming

christmas-morning prayer
swimming in a little teacup
santa baby

más-christ-christ-mas
then god’s gone,
early January

stand on the shore

like a sacrifice
with some secrets