We never learned to see the miraculous, only to wait for it.

My chiropractor tells me, your sternum is shining, meaning that the small bones
in my chest are rotating, overlapping, and moving away from one another—

I don’t know if I made these knuckles for nothing. They came from home.

Like any garment, men have their seasons.
I wear them to pay the rent.

I know it is a song
as much as a scream but
it melts the walls: let me build.

How easily / I could imagine a version of our lives / in which he kept all his suffering secret from me. / I saw the beer on the counter.